


Lonely in Pink

by a_simple_rainbow



Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Doctor Blaine Anderson, M/M, Skank Kurt Hummel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4485567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_simple_rainbow/pseuds/a_simple_rainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine is 27, a doctor with a three year old girl. Kurt is 18, fresh out of high school, with pink hair and combat boots. Equally drowning, they could both use a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1 - They Meet

Blaine watches Emmy for a moment to make sure she’s fallen asleep, before he turns his attention to the phone in his hand, eyes scanning the park and crowd around him quickly. He unlocks the screen, scrolls through his apps and then stops, thumb hovering over the Tinder logo. He feels self-conscious already and, even though he knows no one is looking (and even if they were, how would they know?), his cheeks burn slightly. He’d installed it in a fit of loneliness two months ago, but hadn’t had the guts to open it again. That night he’d been under the influence of feelings and alcohol, numbing him to the sensation that he was sweeping through a catalogue of objects, and allowing him to instead celebrate every match he got and somehow follow them through with a conversation.

He knows that by now the few guys that he had exchanged messages with have probably forgotten all about him, and he’d have to find new ones. But how do you start a conversation with a person whose golden hard abs (would it really hurt these guys to put on a shirt?) are all you have to go on? Maybe, if he’s lucky, there’ll be a shared interest or two to give him a clue at a good first line but most of the time it’s incredibly generic things like The New Yorker.

“Hey, how about that article on Rachel Dolezal? Riveting, right?” Just doesn’t sound like a good pick-up line.

His thumb hovers for a second more before he sighs and locks the screen again. Might as well admit defeat: between his practice and a three-year-old girl, his dating life is dead and there’s nothing he can do about it. He can’t bring himself to have anonymous sex in a club bathroom stall, or even “order” it via grindr. And he can’t even make himself swipe through a few pictures of men to see if there’s anything that catches his eye because it just feels so incredibly superficial, in a way that he’s never been – not even when he was a teenager, let alone now that he’s closer to thirty than he’d care to admit. He doesn’t want a one-night stand, and no one wants anything more than that with him anymore. So, he’s just going to keep spending eight hours a day in his office, and the rest of his time with Emmy – who is a woman magnet, for sure, but definitely not a single twenty-something gay guy magnet.

Loud barks of teenage laughter startle him back to reality and he notices the group of, presumably, high school students sitting down not too far from his little spot in the shade. Blaine twists his nose. They’re loud enough to wake Emmy up, and they’re reminding Blaine of years long gone when his life wasn’t upside down.

He doesn’t leave, though, and settles into watching them for a bit – it’s nearing the end of the school year and they’re clearly decompressing after finals or something like that. It’s a diverse bunch, from a couple of them dressed all in black with combat boots, to girls in short, colorful skirts and knee high socks. It’s kind of nice to see a mix like that and it leaves Blaine a little nostalgic for days when the Warblers would hang out, outside the school, blazers forgotten and he’d get to witness how different they really were.

He picks his phone back up again, but instead opens his favorite contacts.

“Hey.” Wes picks up on the third ring.

“Hey!”

“What’s up?”

“Remember that time Jeff came to school with his uniform shirt pink because he decided to do laundry for the first time in his life and he mixed the whites with the colors?” He sighs.

Wes chuckles, “I’m pretty sure that happened more than once, actually.”

“Probably still happens.”

“Probably.”

“We should call the guys. Have a get together… catch up with everyone else.”

“We’re adults now, Blaine,” Wes tells him, but he’s amused. “We’re all busy, and most of us left Ohio.”

“Ugh.” He lets his head fall against the tree he’s been sitting against.

“Oh, it’s one of those days, then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” Wes tells him. “It’s okay. It’s been a while since the last one, and you have a right to them.”

“I don’t know. It kind of feels like I’m betraying Emmy, you know?” Blaine sighs, sparing a glance to the girl curled up on the blanket.

“Blaine, you didn’t plan for her. And, okay, kids are a joy and fill our lives with love and purpose, yadda yadda yadda, but they also mean a lot of sacrifice, that sometimes we weren’t quite ready to make. You gave up a dream residency for her. You gave up your dream city. I think you’ve proven your dedication to raising that kid enough that you can allow yourself a few days of wallowing in what you’ve lost, once in a while.”

Blaine sighs and pulls his legs a little closer to his chest, “I think I’m applying again next year.”

“You should.”

“I’ll have enough money saved up, that I can afford New York, and the kid, and babysitters and everything else.”

“I think that’s a solid plan.”

“Yeah. I think so too. I just… I’m just worried about uprooting her after-”

“Blaine. She’s three years old. She’s barely going to remember anything before now. If you want to move this is actually a good time. Before she starts making friends she can actually get attached to. I know you’ll be losing your parents’ help, but… If you came to New York, I could help, too.”

“I know. I know… Thanks… I’m definitely applying. Maybe I shouldn’t even be worried, though – maybe I’ll never get in-”

“You got in before, why wouldn’t you get in now? Come on, don’t be stupid. You’re coming back.”

Blaine laughs, “Thanks. Anyway, I’ll let you go now... I’ll let you get back to… whatever I interrupted.”

“Paperwork. Exciting. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye.” Blaine sighs as he ends the call and smiles to himself. He breathes a little deeper, spirits a little better, and turns towards his sleeping baby only to have his heart stop in his chest. She’s gone.

He scrambles to look around, scream ready right at the base of his throat, when he sees Emmy jogging her way to the group of teenagers; her precious, only slightly wobbly jog unmistakable. His relief freezes him just as much as his panic had and he can only watch as she plops herself next to a boy dressed in tight black jeans, a black tank top and combat boots. His hair is dyed with strips of pink, and he’s holding a lit cigarette between his lips. He notices her out of the corner of his eye and startles for a moment.

Blaine is already halfway to his feet, cringing at all the possible outcomes of this, when the boy blows the smoke, turning his face completely away from her, and then making sure the cigarette is out of sight, greets her.

“Hi there,” the boy looks slightly amused.

“Pink hair!” Emmy points at his hair, just as Blaine reaches them. “Very pretty!”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” Blaine breathes bending low to pick her up and standing back up again, Emmy tight in his arms and slightly alarmed at being taken away from the shiny new toy.

The boy’s eyes follow his movement – he doesn’t bring the cigarette back to his lips, even though he’s silent for a moment, squinting slightly against the sun as he looks up at Blaine.

“It’s fine,” he says. “She just wanted to express her good taste in hair colors.”

Emmy struggles slightly against Blaine’s hold, reaching for the boy.

“Yes, she’s very into bright colors. It’s like catnip to her. She just goes straight towards it, doesn’t even think twice.”

“Good taste and ambition, I’d say,” the boy nods. The hand holding the cigarette twitches, but he still doesn’t move it.

Blaine smiles politely. “Probably a good thing for her future. Although, for now it’s just very exhausting for me.” He takes a step back. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to…” Blaine notices for the first time this boy is sitting ever so slightly out of his circle of friends, ignoring them for the most part. “…your afternoon.”

The boy smiles, amused, eyes flicking over to the other teens. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I never seem to get enough time for staring off into nothing. I’d hate to be interrupted again.”

Blaine’s not quite sure what to say to that so he just gives him a polite nod and goes back to his little corner. Emmy settled on his lap.

“Honey, can we not go wander off and invade other people’s personal space, please?”

She looks at him with excited blue eyes before she grins, “Wanna pink hair.”

Blaine snorts. “That’s a solid no, hon.”

She squints her eyes.

“No, hon.”

She pouts.

“Still a no.”

“You could always buy her a pink wig.” A voice calls from slightly afar.

Blaine looks over to see that the boy is sitting back down, significantly closer – no cigarette in sight.

“She’d go insane with the itching,” Blaine says, trying to keep the frown and confusion off his face.

“Yes, and she’ll give up on that pink hair real fast,” he shrugs. “You don’t have to be polite for my sake. I know pink hair is scandalous and big no-no for the general population – especially the preppy bowtie wearing kind.”

Blaine chuckles. He lets Emmy slip out his lap towards the boy. “My name’s Blaine. That’s Emmy.”

The boy glances towards Blaine at her name, his lip twitches with amusement. “Like the TV award?”

Blaine laughs. “ _Exactly_ like the TV award.”

Emmy reaches the boy and stretches high for his hair. “Kurt,” he says as he bends a little towards her fingers, outstretched to grab and pull, and he lets her. It’s not a newborn or baby toddler kind of tug. She’s clearly studying it, trying to decipher how he managed it and probably thinking of her pink crayons back home, wondering if it’ll work.

“Emmy – please-” Blaine starts, reaching over.

Kurt holds out a hand and twists his head just enough to squint at Blaine. “‘S fine. A little hair pulling never hurt anyone,” he says with a kind of smirk that has Blaine reaching around his collar. “So you’re the babysitter, or something?”

“I’m – huh, no. She’s- she’s mine.”

“Huh.” Kurt nods, straightening back up.

Blaine’s not quite sure what that’s supposed to mean. “Oh, please, do tell me I look too young to be her father…” he jokes, halfheartedly.

Kurt shrugs slightly, “I mean… You’d pass for closeted teenage pregnancy mistake, I guess.”

Blaine sputters. Once he recovers he doesn’t quite know if he should laugh, but he does. Kurt looks a little smug at that.

“Do you want me to braid your hair, Emmy?”

She beams, nodding enthusiastically and immediately sits on Kurt’s lap. His hands bury into her soft, silky chocolate brown hair.

“That was me casing to make sure you were gay, by the way.” Kurt says, voice casual and neutral – maybe too casual.

Blaine manages to keep himself together this time, somehow. His eyes flick down towards Emmy, but she’s happy with the hands pulling and twisting her hair artfully.

“You’re a kid,” he says, trying to keep his tone just as neutral.

Kurt quirks an eyebrow and remains silent for a while. “And you’re not?”

“I’m twenty seven.”

Kurt considers the information for a moment, “See, when I came over I was sure you were the babysitter.”

“Huh.” Blaine says, for lack of something better. “So, why did you stay?”

Kurt smirks. “She’s cute,” his eyes, however, remain glued on Blaine’s, and it makes him slightly uncomfortable.

“This is without a doubt, the weirdest interaction I’ve ever had.” Blaine chuckles, because he’s not quite sure what else he can do or say.

“I try to leave a mark.” Kurt shrugs, still looking a little smug.

“I’ll remember you, that’s for sure.”

Emmy’s bright eyes are watching the conversation like a Ping-Pong match. Kurt finally takes his eyes off Blaine to look at his work. He snorts, “This looks like sh-,” he stops himself just in time. “This looks like crap...?” he adds a question mark, glancing up at Blaine, who’s trying to keep the laughter within.

“Almost…” he mutters, before he adds, referring to the hair-do, “Maybe next time you should actually look at what you’re doing.”

“As opposed to looking at what I wanna be doing,” Kurt quips and Blaine freezes. Kurt laughs. “I’m sorry, subtlety was never my forte,” the boy gestures to his hair, nose ring and pierced ears as if they were evidence.

“I can see that.” Blaine manages.

They fall into a small, strange silence. Kurt deftly undoes all of his previous work.

“She’s quiet for such a forward little beastie.” Kurt says. Emmy glances up at him, making it clear that she’s aware they’re now talking about her, and turns back to Blaine with pinched lips. She’s trusting him to keep her looking cool in front of the new acquaintance.

“She’s not talkative.” Blaine nods. He doesn’t continue. Kurt doesn’t want to know about how Blaine is worried that maybe she’s falling behind, for her age. That maybe it’s his fault, because up until recently he’d been having trouble keeping words in his own mouth, let alone coax them out of hers. “But she’s curious, and she likes to observe. She loves listening to conversations.”

Kurt nods, his smile a little more genuine. “Seems like a smart thing to do,” he says. “Lull them into a false sense of security, and then bam. Knows everything about everyone and is the queen on campus. She’ll have them wrapped around her little finger.”

Blaine can’t help feeling a little warmer at that.

“Much better!” Kurt considers her hair, and she grins, all excited and pink cheeked as she throws her hands to her head, trying to feel the result. Kurt, though, turns his attention fully back to Blaine, “So, about me hitting on you…”

Blaine tries not to let his cheeks go hotter. “What about it?”

“Did it work?”

Chuckling, Blaine shakes his head, “You’re a kid.”

“I’m eighteen. Plus, what does that matter? I’m not looking for a _boyfriend_. Especially not one with a kid.”

The blow hits Blaine a little more than he’d care to admit. “But _I_ am,” he says.

“Huh.” Kurt looks Blaine in the eye for a moment longer, and then looks down to consider his work on Emmy’s hair. He pats her gently on her expertly braided head, before he puts her on the grass and starts to stand. “Good luck with that,” he says as he leaves, pulling a cigarette pack out of his back pocket.

Blaine can’t tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine, but he knows he shouldn’t care.

-x-

Blaine scrubs the exhaustion off his face before he stands and opens his door, checking his clipboard, “Burt…?” he smiles as the other man stands on the other end of the waiting room and walks over. They shake hands as they go inside and Blaine closes the door quietly.

“How’ve you been, Burt?” He asks moving back to his chair behind the desk.

“Good. How’ve you been, doc?” The older man’s tone is slightly teasing and Blaine finds himself smiling easily.

“Pretty good. I’ve been eating my veggies and getting some exercise.”

Burt laughs. “I have, too. My kid doesn’t let me stray, you know how it is. He eats a whole cheesecake by himself, but god forbid I have a French fry – because _the doctor_ said no.”

Blaine smiles sympathetically. “You can have a French fry.”

“Just one?”

Blaine tilts his head from side to side. “Four…?”

With another laugh, Burt winks at him. “Second time here and I already like you better than the old dinosaur before you, doc.”

“He did have abnormally small arms, didn’t he?” Blaine half-whispers, before the two of them chuckle some more. “Okay, enough chit chat. I actually have to do my job at some point today,” he says, as he pulls out his stethoscope and gestures for Burt to lose the jacket.

They keep chatting and what could have been a five-minute consultation turns into twenty minutes, as usual. Blaine hates making his patients feel like numbers, and never spares any energy on making them feel accompanied and important – but it does come at price. By the end of the day, usually, he is not only exhausted, but also running a little behind.

Blaine puts his instruments away and sits back behind his desk, pulling his keyboard closer and jarring the pre-historic computer back to life with a nudge to the mouse. “So, everything seems normal, Burt. I don’t think you should be worried, but, just to make sure, I want to have you take some tests, get updated info, and when you come back with those results we’ll discuss how many French fries you can have.” He talks as he types.

“We’ll have to have it in writing or the offspring won’t take my word for it, though.”

Blaine smiles, “Bring him along, I’ll tell him myself.”

“I will do it.” Burt says with a playfully warning tone.

“And I look forward to meeting him.” Blaine shrugs easily, as the printer whirs to life.

“You’ll regret it – the moment he knows you’re telling me I can eat junk food, he’s going to shred you to pieces.”

Blaine laughs, “Wow, he does sound like a charmer. I’ll just have to remind him I’m the one who went to medical school.”

Blaine’s surprised to find Burt’s chuckles wavering, and his smile turning a little duller, “He’s a good kid, don’t get me wrong. But lately, I think he’s been pretending he’s not… It gets me worried that… this heart situation isn’t helping. He’s been through a lot – it’s just one thing piling after another… being the only out gay kid at his school got him bullied like hell, his mother died when he was young, and then my heart attack beginning of his junior year…? I guess I can be thankful he finished high school in one piece.”

“Oh,” Blaine breathes. This is new. He’s not used to this kind of conversation, and it makes him think of Emmy and how long it’ll be before he’s this person confiding his worries to semi-strangers. “Well, I think you should definitely bring him along, next time, and we’ll go through your situation together, okay? Maybe it’ll get him a little less worried.”

“That really sounds great. Thanks, doc.” Burt holds his hands out for the exam prescriptions, taking his cue to leave.

Blaine smiles handing it over as he stands to walk him out, “Anything to help out a fellow single dad.”

-x-

Blaine watches his last patient leave and goes back to his desk for a long, end of the day sigh.

Well, definitely not end of the day. There is no end of the day when you’re single parenting a three year old. He allows himself another sigh before he stands back up, drapes his white coat over the chair, organizes his desk and grabs the files for his receptionist. He hands them over with a bright smile on his way out.

His walk to the small day care center is quick. Parents are like rock stars in it, coming into this place to clamoring shouts of their children – but, in a small town like Lima, _dads_ … dads coming to pick up children are mythical creatures, and Blaine has to pretend he doesn’t notice the way moms and the female employees swoon, every day, like clockwork, at the sight of him as he walks through the door and looks around the knee high jungle of kids clamoring for the adults’ attention to find Emmy. Today, he finds her amidst crayons and coloring books, picks her up and winces slightly at the state of her hands, as usual. He holds his cheek close to her face so she can kiss it and smiles warmly when she does, holding on tight to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he tells the girl in charge of Emmy’s little battalion of kids, and the girl nods, smiles and blushes, as if that wasn’t the same thing he’d been telling her every day for the past two months.

The moment they step outside, the bright sun blinding them both momentarily, Blaine relaxes somewhat. Being with Emmy, whatever it may be, is still much easier without a dozen eyes on them – on him. He kisses her and holds her a little tighter.

“Well, it’s been a long day,” he says, readjusting the grip on her and starting down the street. She likes it when he holds her, even though she walks perfectly. “Then again, lately, every day’s been a long day.”

She tugs slightly at his hair – _I agree_ , she says– and he smiles.

“So, how about we get some ice-cream? We always go past that adorable little ice-cream shop, and I think today is the day to try it.”

She nods with a big smile. “Please, daddy!” Emmy loves ice-cream, and Blaine doesn’t feel the need to complain about finishing hers when she’s had enough.

“So, how was your day?” he asks, not really expecting more than one syllable as an answer but knowing he should try nonetheless.

“Good,” she tells him, like almost always, and leaves it at that. She’s smiling, though, looking around them and apparently enamored with the not-that-busy streets of Lima. So, he lets it go.

“Well, mine was pretty good, too. I had lots of patients today,” he starts, and she listens. That’s the way they work – he tells her all about his days, and she truly listens. At least he thinks she does, because most of the time she’s looking at him with big, bright, interested eyes, and sometimes, on the few occasions she says more than three words in a row, she’ll mention something or someone from Blaine’s long tales.

Everybody acts like this is some disaster waiting to happen – and yet, for as worried as he feels sometimes, he can’t bring himself to pressure her into anything. To get her to speech therapy, or to force her to say more than she wants to. She’s three years old, and while it’s true that most kids her age are blabbermouths, he’s convinced that it’s too soon to be putting any kind of label or expectations on the kid. Especially after what she’s been through.

He sees the little ice-cream parlor up ahead. A godsend, as it is, because sweat is starting to pool at his lower back – he hopes it’s not showing on his shirt – and he can use the air conditioned break of walking home.

The moment he walks through the door, though, he stops. Torn between gasping and laughing, he does something in between.

Kurt, from the other day at the park, stands behind the counter, clad in a baby blue t-shirt with a nametag, pressed white shorts, and most of this facial piercings removed.

“Oh,” Kurt quirks an eyebrow, clearly doing a better job of masking his surprise, “Look, who it is. I’m so sorry, but we don’t offer senior discount.”

Blaine can’t help chuckling at that, “That’s fine. I’ll just have two small cups, with two flavors each.”

Kurt registers the purchase while Blaine puts Emmy down and fishes out his wallet to pay. Emmy goes straight to the display of flavors, her little nose pressed against the glass as she considers her colorful options on tiptoes. He reaches to pull her head back before she French kisses the glass, but as soon as he lets go of her little ponytail, her nose is right back on that glass and he admits defeat.

“So,” Blaine says, after a moment of awkward silence as he hands out a ten-dollar bill, “Turns out the pink hair was to match the strawberry ice-cream.”

Kurt glances up, keeping his face stoic and not at all amused. There are traces of poorly removed eyeliner around his eyes. “Yeah. I dye it to match flavor of the week. Anything to win employee of the month.”

Blaine nods and leaves it at that, dumping his entire change on the tip jar and making Kurt eye it with a small frown while he moves on to peruse his options.

Kurt turns to look at Emmy, lowering down until their faces are level and she sees him through the glass.

“What’s it gonna be, Golden Globe?”

She eyes the display again, and turns to Blaine, “How many?”

He holds up two fingers, “Two.”

She turns back, and says, “Pink and blue!”

Kurt’s lips twist in a smile as he scoops up strawberry and blue mint ice cream. He jams a spoon on it before he hands it over to Blaine who immediately passes it on to Emmy’s eager, outstretched hands.

“What about you? Vanilla and vanilla?” Kurt eyes him with challenge and Blaine refrains from laughing.

He peruses his options for a short moment before he shrugs and says, “Rum and hazelnut, please.”

“How very adult of you,” Kurt comments as he scoops the first flavor, and Blaine ignores it to the best of his ability.

He takes the cup from Kurt with a polite smile. “Thank you, have a nice day.”

Kurt squints slightly before he says in a dull voice, “Enjoy, come back again in the short time you have left before you die of old age.”

Blaine refrains from saying anything else before he walks over and holds the door open for Emmy.

He walks slightly behind her, appreciating the way she’s completely focused on her treat, eating eagerly by the spoonful. He spots a small street bench just outside the shop and tells her to go there and they sit together, people watching while ice-cream eating.

“I think Kurt is angry with me,” Blaine says after a few minutes. Emmy turns to him. There’s pink and blue on pretty much any skin in close proximity of her mouth. He bites his lip and keeps himself from cleaning it all – might as well wait until she’s done.

After a moment she prompts. “Why?” She’s exasperated she even had to ask it.

“Because he wanted to spend time with me and I said no, I think.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he thought I looked fun or nice.” Blaine shrugs.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Why you sayed no?”

“Oh.” _Because he’s not even out of high school and it’d be extremely weird sleeping with an eighteen year old punkster – or whatever he calls himself – even if I was looking for one night stands, which I’m not._ “Because I’m very busy right now.”

She frowns. Blaine has a fleeting moment of panic where he thinks she’s going to point out it’s barely five in the evening and they’re sitting on a street bench, eating ice-cream on a whim. Instead she decides the conversation is over and hops off the bench. Blaine startles as she starts to go back, practically at a sprint.

“Emmy, wait.” He jogs to catch her, grabs her arm, careful to hold her but not hurt her, “Where are you going?”

“Not busy now,” she smiles brightly, fulfilling his fear (and basically destroying every idiot who ever dared to hint at the possibility that she might be intellectually challenged just because she avoids speaking). She turns back and tugs him toward the ice-cream shop.

He groans and face-palms, but her hand is already pushing the door. It doesn’t budge thankfully, and Blaine begins the process of wracking his brain for another reason why this can’t happen now.

“Honey, Kurt is working right no-”

The door is pulled open and Kurt looks at the two of them. There’s a cigarette pack in his hand, one already halfway out.

“Time!” She says happily, throwing her arms out like she’s generously offering Blaine to Kurt.

Kurt frowns and sidesteps her until he’s outside and the door is closed – the _Open_ sign flipped to _Be Right Back_.

“Very cryptic,” he tells her, before he turns to Blaine and gestures in the general direction of her face, “You missed a spot, daddy.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and kneels down to her height, taking out a small pack of moist toilettes out of his bag. “Are you finished with your ice-cream, honey?”

She holds her cup upside down. Liquid, melted ice-cream pours over the sidewalk.

He winces, “Don’t do that, Emmy.” He takes the cup away, sets it down on the sidewalk, next to his mostly full one and takes out a toilette, dabbing it over her face to wipe out the dried, sticky colors off her face.

Blaine can see Kurt leaning against the wall from the corner of his eye, but the click of a lighter or the smell of a cigarette hasn’t hit yet.

“I appreciate you not smoking around kids,” Blaine says, because he should be saying something.

“I do smoke around myself, and I am a kid.”

Blaine winces and turns to look up at Kurt. His eyes are turned away, catching the sun and shining a bright, vivid blue. Their skyward gaze holds the contempt and purposefulness of him refusing to look Blaine in the eye. “You’re mad I said no, aren’t you?”

He breaks and looks, eyebrow quirked. “Did you want me to be happy about it? Oh, wow, this guy thinks I still have too much baby fat on me, he’s so nice.”

Blaine frowns. “It’s not about what you look like, Kurt. It’s just that… I mean. You’re in high school.”

Kurt shakes his head. There’s a smile there that Blaine can’t tell if it’s genuine amusement or bitterness. “Graduated yesterday.”

“Oh, congratulations!” he can’t help the bright smile.

Kurt quirks an eyebrow. There’s a flicker of confusion, and Blaine realizes that might not have been the best way to respond, given the contextual dialogue before it. “Thanks,” he shrugs, his fingers impatiently twirling a cigarette. His eyes finally return to the horizon, all the while losing none of their intensity. They’re taking a toll on Blaine’s appropriateness. “Are you gonna tell me to call you after college?”

Blaine can’t help chuckling. “I don’t know what to tell you Kurt.”

Kurt gives him a short nod and points to his ice-cream. “That’s mostly melted goo, right now.”

Blaine looks at it – true. “Still pretty delicious.” Blaine shrugs, picking it up as he stands back up. “Emmy, let’s go home.”

“Kurt is not mad, now?” Emmy asks, looking between the two of them.

Kurt raises an eyebrow before he smirks and says, “I’m a kid, I’m in combat boots and I work at an ice-cream shop, there’s always something I’m mad about.”

Blaine sighs, giving him a halfhearted eye roll before he reaches for Emmy's hand. “See you around, Kurt.”

With a mock salute, Kurt finally takes the cigarette to his lips and gives him a snarky smile.

-x-

Two weeks later and Blaine is still thinking about it. Obviously, it’s not the fact that Kurt graduated that changes anything. It doesn’t change his age – ridiculously young. It doesn’t change his piercings and his clothes – and call Blaine prejudiced all you want, but those don’t usually mean well-adjusted, stable and sane. And it certainly doesn’t change that Blaine needs more than a fuck, and that that was apparently what Kurt wanted out of him.

He knows it’s his loneliness talking – this small part of himself that can’t quite get over the fact that a year ago he was in New York with thousands of opportunities for dating every time he stepped out of his apartment. That part of himself hates Lima, and its hilariously limited collection of gays. Oh yes, he’d been to Scandals. And there were plenty of scandalous things about it, including how empty it was, how not-at-all-fabulous it was, and how overall disappointing the LGBTQ community of any slightly larger city would find it. That part of Blaine is pinging with excitement that apparently there are still gay men under 50 out there for him to try.

Blaine deeply wishes that that part of himself would just shut up and let him live the single life in peace.

He finishes his tuna sandwich and wraps up the napkin. It’s kind of sad, when you think about it. A sandwich for lunch, alone in his starkly white office.

He sighs and shakes his head. Maybe he can ask the owner of the clinic if he can redecorate his office. It really isn’t Blaine’s at all, and maybe that would really help him feel a little more at home.

He throws the napkin in his wastebasket, and brushes the crumbs from his desk carefully onto his palm, throwing those out as well, before he gets up and leaves to use the bathroom, to quickly brush his teeth before his first appointment of the afternoon. It’s only as he’s coming out, already scanning the waiting room for his next patient that he sees him. In all his pink-haired, black-dressed, combat booted glory.

He frowns – Kurt has his mouth hanging open, as well. He’s about to let his name drop out of his mouth in surprise when Burt Hummel stands and smiles, “Hey, doc!”

“H-hey!” Blaine tries to smile, probably fails. Points to his ajar office door and says, “Shall we?”, all the while praying Kurt doesn’t actually stand up and follow Burt. But he does.

Holy shit.

Kurt walks as if approaching a very tall cliff, and Blaine knows exactly how he feels.

Once the two of them are inside Blaine slaps himself discreetly and follows, only turning to face them once the door is closed and he has no other way of delaying it.

“So, Burt, how’ve you been?”

“Stellar!” Burt grins, “As promised, the offspring is here.”

“I can see that.” Blaine barely manages not to whimper, he debates if he should be honest, but in the end he holds out his hand for Kurt to shake and says, “I’m Doctor Anderson.”

“Kurt.” Kurt says, clipped and short, his cheeks beyond red.

“So.” Blaine clears his throat and forces himself to sit behind his desk and carry on. “You have something to show me?”

Burt happily produces a stack of papers and envelopes and Blaine takes it, hoping his hands look steadier than they feel. He starts going through it, words going out of his head faster than he can read them until he has to stop himself from freaking out. He clears his throat, rolls his shoulders and tries again.

“Right,” he says, looking up after a while. Burt is frowning slightly, clearly having been immersed in some sort of silent conversation with his son. “Well, there’s reason for optimism. I think, given your past and your age, these are looking pretty good. About as good as they could ever look, actually. So, you can definitely have four French fries a week, Burt.”

Burt laughs. Kurt scowls.

“This isn’t a joke.”

Blaine frowns, “I’m sorry…?”

“Kurt.” Burt’s tone is a warning.

“Look, if the tests came back with good results it’s because every single day I’m there to keep the French fries, and the burgers, and the bacon, and the fat cheese, and… and _everything_ else off his mouth.”

“Kurt. I understand where you’re coming from, and while it’s commendable the help you’ve been giving your dad, what I’m saying is that his diet doesn’t need to be that strict. It-”

“I’ve been taking care of him for years now, effectively saving his life, and you waltz in and start mouthing off about-”

“Kurt!”

“Hey, hey.” Blaine raises his hands, “No one’s saying your work’s been useless. Of course your father needs to eat healthy on a daily basis. I’m simply suggesting that you introduce a cheat day, for instance. A meal a week, where he gets to eat what he really wants. It helps with the motivation to keep on diets, and-”

“Not dying is motivation enough, I think.” Kurt squints his eyes and leans forward, “ _You’re_ a kid fresh outta college, and you’re not even a cardiologist -what do you know about long term treatments and results, about-”

“Seriously?” Blaine gasps, sardonic laughter seeping through. “I really don’t want to fight with you. We want the same thing, Kurt.”

“I knew this was a bad idea…” Burt sighs, hand on his forehead. “I told you, he was difficult.”

“ _I’m_ difficult?!” Kurt gasps, standing up in an angry motion. “I spend high school worrying over you, making sure you have the right kind of food on your plate – making sure you don’t have another heart attack and keel over, and all the while listening to you moaning and complaining about not enough salt and not enough flavor and bitching about it to whoever’s listening, making it seem like I’m this big bad guy torturing you. And now you go out and pick the most gullible child straight out of med school to help your idiotic case and _I’m_ difficult?” He eyes them both, his face is red, but now with contempt, “Fuck you both.”

Blaine gapes as Kurt walks out.

-x-

Blaine pushes the door to the clinic open and sighs as he spots Kurt sitting on the curb, legs stretched out to the road. He walks slowly and sits carefully next to him.

“I think maybe I was wrong,” Blaine says carefully. Kurt turns to him but doesn’t say anything. “You’re not really a kid, are you?”

Kurt scoffs and turns away.

“Are you working at the ice-cream shop today?” Kurt nods. “What time do you get off?”

“What?” he gapes at Blaine like he’s insane. “I don’t actually wanna fuck you anymore.”

Blaine can’t help the laughter that escapes him. He shakes his head and sighs softly. “I just want to talk. But right now wouldn’t work, because I still have like… _a lot_ of patients to see. But, I really want us to talk, Kurt.”

Kurt gives him a scathing, slightly curious look. “I close it up at ten.”

Blaine nods. “I’ll be there,” he says and stands up with a soft squeeze to Kurt’s shoulder. “Your dad will be right out. I’ll be quick, finishing up.”

-x-

Blaine still feels weird leaving Emmy at his parents’. A lot of people still think she should be with them and not him, and he can’t shake the feeling that his parents feel that way as well, and that, one day soon, he’ll drop her off for the evening, like tonight, and they’ll just tell him he’s doing a lousy job and that they’re kindly keeping her. Kindly – because that’s always how they operate, out of “kindness”.

Blaine closes his eyes and berates himself for going there. It’s not fair to them. Sure, sometimes they can be difficult, and god knows growing up with them wasn’t always easy, but this is not productive.

He sighs and starts the car, watching as, upstairs, the nursery’s light go out. It still amazes him, how quickly Emmy became most of his world – how quickly he became uncomfortable with the sight of the empty space in her car chair, when she isn’t there, coming home with him.

He drives back to Lima, and parks right next to the little ice-cream shop at nine fifty five pm.

Kurt is already wiping the counter, cloth in one hand, and detergent in the other.

“Hi.” Blaine says as he pushes the door open. Kurt glances up, and looks surprised to see him there, freezing mid-motion.

“I’m still confused about what’s going on here,” he says after a moment of silence where he just looked at Blaine, evaluating the situation.

Blaine shrugs, before he points to the sign on the door, “Should I…? um, flip it?”

Kurt frowns before he shrugs and nods. When Blaine turns back Kurt has stopped cleaning. “And you don’t wanna fuck?”

It makes Blaine’s cheeks burn, but he smiles and chuckles. If it comes out a little breathless he just hopes Kurt doesn’t notice. “Not at all.”

“Oh wow.”

“No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean.. Oh, I just…” he stops and takes a long breath. “Let’s try again. I realize you’re going through a rough patch. Your dad confided some of it to me – I mean, besides his health issues. I just thought you might want someone to talk to. Someone who’ll understand.”

“And you do?” Kurt looks skeptical.

“I once grew up gay in Lima too. I was once the only out gay kid at my school, too,” he pauses. Considers it. Decides, what the hell. “Until I wasn’t, and there were two of us, and we decided to go the school dance together, and then we got the crap beat out of us, and he moved somewhere far, far away, and I was back to being alone, in that same school, and with broken bones to add to wounded pride.”

Kurt looks startled. Like he has no idea how to react. Blaine imagines he’s trying to hold onto the last string of contempt and rage he has left and finding them feeble. Blaine knows from experience, there’s nothing quite like finding someone who might understand you, for your walls to come collapsing in the biggest spectacle of demolition known to mankind.

“So, I thought maybe I could be a friendly ear.”

“You mean, a walking, talking It Gets Better video?”

Blaine chuckles. “Something like that.”

Kurt eyes him for a moment. He doesn’t soften or sigh, or even, god forbid, smile, but he does shrug and ask “Do you want some ice-cream?”

“Sure.”

“Rum and hazelnut?”

Blaine smiles and bites his lip to keep himself from teasing Kurt about still remembering such a silly detail. “Whatever. Surprise me,” he says instead, as he takes a seat at one of the tables further from the window.

After a minute there’s a cup with chocolate, peppermint and a spoon shoved on it. Kurt slides easily into the seat in front of him, the exact same combination. For some reason, Blaine feels like it fits Kurt.

“So… what happened? You got the crap beat out of you, the doctors saved you and you decided to become one, but you’re too lame to be an actual cool doctor like a surgeon, so you’re taking care of old people and hypochondriac housewives?”

Blaine takes a spoonful of ice-cream, letting it dissolve in his mouth while he works on his answer. “A lot of things happened. My parents expected me to become something reputable. Mostly they wanted me to follow in my dad’s footsteps and become a lawyer. Doctor was something we could all agree on. My brother had gone into acting and it wasn’t working out too well for him, so a career in the arts was out of the question for me.”

“Or what?”

“Or a lot of things… I’d lose their support, financial or otherwise. They’d take me out of the very expensive, very good private school they’d finally agreed to enroll me in for my senior year, which was the only thing keeping me from getting bullied and beaten up over and over again. And I was worried about my brother. Wondering how long my parents would keep financing his exploits. Knowing it wouldn’t be long till they’d say he needed to learn for himself what responsibility felt like, and stop giving him money. For his own good, you know?” Blaine shrugs. “But yeah, mostly, I felt like I had my life saved by doctors, and I wanted to be that person too. The one that did the saving.”

Kurt looks surprised by the candor. And Blaine feels surprised by how good it felt to share all of it.

“So, I went to Med School… And no, I’m not too lame to become a cool doctor. I was going to, but… things got off track. I’ll go back to it next year.”

“Tony Award?” Kurt quirks an eyebrow.

Blaine smiles at the joke and nods, but doesn’t expound on it.

“Where is she?”

“With my parents for the night.”

Kurt nods. A small silence settles between them and they both pick at their ice-creams before Kurt speaks again. His voice inquisitive, but that careful tone of casual indifference. Like he’s doing Blaine a favor, acting interested. “So what happened there? With BAFTA, I mean… If you’ve been out for so long, I don’t get it. You got drunk one night and mistook a vagina for an asshole?”

Blaine swallows the ice-cream in his mouth. Takes another spoonful, swallows again. He does it five times before he shrugs. “My brother died. I’m her uncle, technically. Her godfather. But I guess, for all intents and purposes, I’m her dad. Just not her father.”

Kurt freezes. Not that he was moving before, but something about his posture and expression just freezes. It’s like when Blaine told him about being beaten up, but three times harsher. He can sense Kurt’s near panic, trying to think of something to say and coming up empty.

“That sucks,” he finally says.

“Yeah.” Blaine nods, eating some more ice-cream, and trying to keep his eyes from burning and his throat from closing.

“When?”

“Seven months ago.”

“Shit…” it’s whispered and probably not meant to have come out, so Blaine pretends he didn’t hear it and lets the silence stretch a bit more because he’s afraid if he speaks now his voice might break. “I guess… I guess I’m sorry I was an ass to you… in your office. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Blaine shakes his head. “You’re scared for him.”

“I’m scared for me, too.” Kurt murmurs. He keeps his eyes on his ice-cream but he has stopped eating it. “He’s kind of... all I have.”

Blaine nods his understanding, but doesn’t say anything, knowing that what Kurt needs now is a listening ear. The advice, if it exists, can come later.

“I don’t… I didn’t even apply to any college, I just… I’m scared to leave him, but then... if I don’t and he still… dies. I have nothing left. Nothing. And I don’t want him to know this – how scared I am, of losing him, of losing everything, of being held back… And I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

Blaine reaches out to touch his hand, puts a finger over Kurt’s knuckles. “Well, right at this moment, you can just… talk. To me. Anything you tell me stays between us, I promise. But your dad’s worried about you. With good reason. It’s not healthy to keep all of it bottled up.”

“I…”

“If you don’t want to talk to me, then… I don’t know, find a friend.”

He huffs. “They wouldn’t understand. They think because they sang me songs in glee club, all of my problems magically disappeared. Like my dad isn’t sick anymore, or my mom came back to life, or Karofsky stopped looking at me like he wanted to kill and fuck me at the same time…”

Blaine feels a stab of ice-cold dread at those last words, but he keeps his reaction in check.

“Well, like I said, talk to me,” he touches his hand again. “You really don’t have to be alone.”

Kurt looks up to meet his eyes, and for a moment the guard is absolutely and completely down. Blaine offers him a smile and Kurt pauses a moment before he nods and returns it.

Blaine smiles a little wider before he pulls back and gets a contact card and a pen out of his bag. He flips the card to its back and writes down his personal cell phone number. Sliding it across the table, towards Kurt, he can’t help be a little nervous.

He imagines he may be embarking on some sort of adventure and he doesn't know what kind it is, and what kind he wants it to be.


	2. Part Two – They Want

For about a week he doesn’t hear from Kurt. He thinks maybe he imagines it – that moment of connection he’d been so sure had made Kurt trust him. He’s almost relieved. While he does want to help the kid, he’s constantly having to remind himself he is a _kid_.

But then, lying practically asleep at night, his phone buzzes with a new text and it gets his heart rate going a little faster. It’s practically midnight – no one else would text him this late, unless Wes got inexplicably drunk. He only hesitates for a moment before he turns back towards his bedside table and turns his light back on.

_Today I saw a decrepit old man feeding ducks at the park and I thought it was you. Maybe in two years. –K_

Blaine blinks slowly and reads it over three times before he feels awake enough to understand it. He should probably remind Kurt that it’s late and Blaine starts his days early.

**Funny, that happens to me all the time when I go pick up Emmy from daycare. There’s this kid who likes rubbing his very blonde hair on the chalk and the other day it was pink and I swear I almost said “Hi Kurt!”**

_Mine was funnier._

_So… I have a question. Is my dad supposed to know I’m your pet project now?_

**You’re not my pet project. That sounds terrible. I just thought I could be your friend.**

_Okay. But is he supposed to know his (aggravating adjectives) doctor wants to befriend me? (I left some aggravating adjectives out of that question, btw)_

**I don’t know. He knows I went to talk to you during his appointment the other day.**

_But he doesn’t know you invited yourself to meet me at ten pm._

**He doesn’t.**

Blaine has never written and re-written a text so many times.

**I don’t mean it like he shouldn’t know. I think it’s up to you if you want to tell him. We’re friends, nothing more. I don’t see why he’d have a problem with that.**

Apparently the conversation ends there. Blaine has no idea what else he could possibly add, and Kurt doesn’t say anything else. So eventually, Blaine drops his phone amidst his pillows and goes to sleep.

-x-

It’s another three days before anything happens again. Emmy is being difficult with dinner. She’s clamped her mouth shut and refuses to let even the tip of the spoon in. They should be well, _well_ past this stage, but here he is, grabbing a box of matches and lighting one by one so she’ll be distracted by the pretty fire and let her jaw relax a little (is Blaine raising a raging pyromaniac?). He’s halfway through a box of matches and a quarter way through mashed potatoes and boiled fish (he can’t really blame her, to be honest – as far as bland foods go, this is the blandest), when his phone pings.

He looks between the offending item and Emmy. Putting the box of matches in his pocket and the spoon in her hand he lowers to her eye level and says, “Eat, honey, _please_.”

She smiles. _As if._

There’s a text from Kurt.

_I’m having one of those Instagram moments. Sitting at the abandoned factory just off the freeway, watching the sunset, and this is lame. But I can’t stop thinking, once upon a time it wasn’t lame at all._

**Um. I don’t know what you want me to say. Personally, I’d find that nice. There’s a reason so many people would’ve instagrammed it, after all.**

_Do you think I should quit smoking?_

**I’m a doctor, Kurt. Yes.**

_Do you think I should start applying to colleges for the spring semester?_

**I think you need to talk to your dad about it. Lay it all on the table. I’m sure he’ll help you do what’s best.**

_Do *you* think I should start applying to colleges for the spring semester?_

**Yes.**

_Thanks. How’s Oscar?_

**Refusing dinner.**

_What’s dinner?_

**Mashed potatoes and boiled fish. I may have brought this upon myself. In fact, I’d be sure of it, if this wasn’t exactly her reaction to approximately 70% of her meals. If she had her way she would live off ice cream and bananas.**

_Wanky!_

**Thanks for the imagery.**

_Are you going to be one of those shotgun-wielding dads? “Touch my daughter and I’ll end you”._

**Hardly. I don’t like violence. I despise guns. I’ll look out for her, but I’ll try to keep it healthy.**

_Wouldn’t want her having daddy issues, now would we?_

**Kurt. You’re very charming.**

_I strive so hard not to be, though._

**Have you ever thought maybe that’s your problem?**

_What?_

**Pretending to be someone you’re not. Maybe you want to have Instagram moments. Maybe you want to think they’re pretty.**

_You don’t know me that well, Dr. Phil._

**I don’t. But your dad does.**

_See? This talking behind my back makes me trust you less._

**It was one of the first things he ever told me about you. Before I knew you. I promise there’s** **been no more talking behind your back since then. I’m *just* his doctor. He doesn’t even have an appointment scheduled for another three months. But, here, a peace** **offering.**

**(picture attached: Blaine grimacing slightly with a blotch of mashed potatoes on his collar, some of it on his cheek too)**

_I think she’s jealous. She wants to be talking to me too._

**Please! She only wants you for your hair.**

_As opposed to you, who only wants to use me to feel good about yourself. *pat pat on the back* “I’m such a good Samaritan”_

Blaine frowns at the latest text from Kurt. He sighs as he drops the towel on the sink and heads out of the bathroom. Emmy is very carefully wiping the rest of the mashed potatoes off the floor with a napkin. It makes Blaine smile, even if she’s spreading more than she’s cleaning. He steps around her and grabs paper towels, coming back to kneel next to her. He hits the call button as he bends to join her efforts.

“That’s not what this is about.” He says as soon the ringing tone cuts off.

“What is it about then? What’s in it for you?”

“I don’t know…” Blaine sighs. “I just… I went through part of what you had to go through, just as alone. I don’t have an ailing dad, and my mom is well and alive. But I know loss, too. And being the only out gay kid in Ohio? I’ve been there too. It sucked. Why would I want you to go through it alone?”

“Well, anyway, whatever your motives are… you’re too late. High school’s over. I made it through. Alone, but I did.”

“And now you have battle scars.”

“That is… incredibly lame.”

“And incredibly true.” Blaine shrugs, grunting as he pushes himself to his feet, napkins and paper towels all in a huge ball soiled paper. Emmy watches him throw it out with a sheepish look, so Blaine makes sure to give her a playful glare, but a glare nonetheless. “Listen, if you don’t wanna talk to me, then don’t. But you said your friends don’t understand. I do.”

“Yes, I know. We’ve been through t-“

“I guess, maybe I could use a friend, too.” Blaine cringes as soon as he says it. It’s not true, is it? He looks at his empty apartment, Emmy still sitting on the floor, wiping the already clean floor with her skirt. If he stops talking for a moment he can hear the complete, deafening silence. “I could use a friend in Lima…”

“Oh…”

“Emmy is…” he doesn’t miss the way her head shoots up to look at him at the mention of her name. “Emmy is wonderful. I love her,” she grins and finally stops scrubbing the floors, which makes him laugh. He lowers his voice and steps over to the corridor. “But I miss adult conversations… adult conversations that don’t revolve around cholesterol levels, and blood pressure, and bowel movements.” Kurt chuckles, and Blaine knows he should leave it that, but continues. “Or about my parents constantly offering to take Emmy if it’s too hard on me. Or about people treating me with kid gloves because of my brother…”

Silence is the only answer he gets for the better part of a minute.

“Do you want to watch something shitty on TV and bitch about it over the phone together?”

Blaine startles and then laughs. “Yeah. I think I’d like that. Give me ten minutes to get Emmy in bed.”

“Sure… I’ll go find us something fucking awful.”

They settle into a habit of doing that. Every other day, a couple of hours after dinner, Kurt will call Blaine and they’ll watch an episode of something together – most often than not the conversation will derail, the episode left forgotten while Kurt vents about getting slammed into lockers and having his first kiss forcibly taken, or Blaine tells him about his childhood and parents that would never let him take the easy way out because it didn’t teach you as much perseverance, or give you as much strength (but also how Blaine's hardest way out, was always their easy way out, but he was the one that need to learn about life, not them.) 

One Friday, when Emmy stays at her grandparents’ and Kurt asks him if Blaine doesn’t want to kindly provide him with something better to do than meet up with his high school friends to smoke and drink, Blaine drives down to the ice-cream shop again and they hang out till the wee hours, talking over ice-cream, driving around town listening to music (Blaine had offered to drive Kurt home, and they just kept driving from spot to spot, making excuses not to go to his street just yet).

And then there’s the texting. That one is constant, and Blaine has never paid so much attention to his phone in his life. He knows it’s ridiculous – he looks like an adolescent, discreetly checking his phone every time a patient looks away, but he has to admit, even if only to himself, it’s been about the only thing (the only person) besides Emmy making him smile on a daily basis.

-x-

(picture of Burt grinning and giving two thumbs up, with a plate of French fries and burger in front of him)

_Look what you’ve done!_

**Ahaha!**

_We settled on a bi-weekly cheat meal._

**Sounds like a good plan to me. How very generous of you!**

_Right? I’m trusting your judgment, though. His stats better come back spotless in two months._

**Kurt. I promise you, one fat meal every two weeks isn’t going to do him much harm. I wouldn’t have said so if I wasn’t sure it’d be okay. And besides, I’ve got a close eye on him – anything that makes me so much as squint a little and I send him straight to the best cardiologist I can find.**

_I guess you did go to med school. That’s gotta be worth something._

_And you’re super ancient and still in mildly good shape, so you probably know what you’re doing._

**I know that’s supposed to be a joke, but I swear to god, my back is killing me and this shouldn’t be happening this soon.**

_What happened?_

**Emmy had nightmares. I had to sing her to sleep every time she woke up. I ended up sleeping on the floor, next to her bed.**

_Oh. I’m sorry about Bafta. I hope she sleeps better tonight._

**You and me both.**

-x-

_Just so you know, this friend thing doesn’t really work if I’m the one constantly doing the reaching out. You’re making me feel like the annoying loser._

**Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t notice.**

_What gives?_

**I don’t know. I guess I feel like I kind of pressured you into it, so it feels weird to be the one taking initiative.**

_Well… give it a go._

Blaine stares at his phone for a full minute. He’d been finishing up the last paperwork of the day before leaving when Kurt’s first text arrived. He has no idea why he feels the need to check that his office door is closed and no one is watching, but he does.

**I was just about to leave the office, pick Emmy up and go grocery shopping. It’s not very interesting, but you can join us…**

_Because I have nothing better to do._

**Right. Of course. I know it’s stupid, but I have to do it, so. But I’ll think of something else for the near future.**

_No. I meant that I will indeed join you, because I have nothing better to do. It’s summer in Lima and my day off. Grocery shopping with the dinosaur doctor and a toddler mute sounds riveting._

**Oh! Okay. I’ll wait for you at the office?**

Blaine swallows in dry as he looks at his phone. He has this sudden sensation that he’s just done something incredibly stupid. Still, he forces himself to stand and undo the white buttons of his white coat. He drapes it slowly over his chair, and grabs his bag, pulling the strap over his head. As he moves towards the exit, the strange, looming feeling in the pit of his stomach remains.

He sits at a bus stop bench by the entrance to the clinic and tries not to bounce his leg or bite his lip as he keeps his eyes attentive on the streets. It’s been at least two weeks since the last time he saw Kurt. He realizes that the slow burning panic rising in him has everything to do with that, and how, at the prospect of seeing him, he seems to be remembering piercing blue eyes and broad shoulders.

With a sigh he rubs a hand over his face and shakes his head. He’s not even going to entertain these thoughts, not even for a second.

As he pulls his hand away, that’s when he sees Kurt a couple yards away, in all his usual black clad, pink haired glory. He smiles as he stands up and waves an awkward hello. Somehow he imagines Kurt is not the hugging type.

Kurt stops a couple of feet away with a strange, sort of amused smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Blaine replies, allowing himself one moment of bubbling panic, before he discards it all and smiles as easily as usual. “How are you?”

“Mostly bored.” Kurt shrugs, and Blaine chuckles. “So, let’s go pick up Berlin Bear.”

Blaine doesn’t move for another moment. “Do you worry you’re going to run out of awards soon?”

Kurt shrugs and they start walking. “I’ve actually googled a list of entertainment and media awards… I have the next two years covered.”

“How dedicated of you.” Blaine rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Okay, that’s not actually true. And yeah, I’ll run out soon enough… I got what…? Obie…? Oscar…”

“You’ve already said Oscar. Have you said Tony?”

“I think so…”

“Well,” Blaine shrugs, “at least it really was fun while it lasted.”

“But really now, is she actually named after the award, or was that just a joke, and she’s like Emily or whatever Emmy is short for.”

“Emmy’s an actual name,” Blaine gives him an amused frown. “Doesn’t have to be short for anything. But she’s definitely named after the award. My brother’s acting career wasn’t very prosperous – he landed mostly commercials and small stuff, and when she came along he kind of shelved those dreams so she’d have some stability, **_but_** in return he gave himself the award he always wanted. Because that’s exactly the kind of person he was.”

Kurt keeps his silence for a moment and Blaine kind of wants to take it back and pretend like Emmy was just a pretty name like any other.

“You don’t get to talk about him a lot, right?” Kurt asks, startling Blaine.

“Um, no… not to someone who’ll talk back. Sometimes I’ll talk to Emmy about him, but it’s not like she’s going to keep the conversation going. And my parents are the kind of people who like to pretend everything is always perfect. And we didn’t really have many friends in common, so… no, there’s not a lot of people I can talk to about him.”

“I know… it’s the same with my mom. I would try to talk about her with my dad when I was a kid, but I think he was hurting really bad, so he just didn’t know how to help me… I don’t blame him. But I really ended up having no one to talk to about it,” he scratches his nose, and his movements are slow and hesitant. “So… huh, how did he die?”

“Car crash,” Blaine tells him and Kurt’s eyebrows raise at once, the way everyone’s does.

“Was…?”

He nods. “She was in the car,” he feels the tightness in his chest but pushes at it a little bit. “One of those miraculous things, you know? She got out unscathed, he was… um, killed instantly.”

“Her mother?”

“Wasn’t ever in the picture,” Blaine shrugs. “He was doing it alone.”

Silence falls back between them. It’s not exactly awkward, but it’s clear it stems from a lack of knowing what to say to each other. Blaine is kind of relieved when he sees the colorful doors of Emmy’s daycare.

“We’re here.”

Blaine almost expects Kurt to stay outside and wait for them, but instead he follows Blaine right in, watching the small kids clamoring for attention – heads turning at once at the sound of the front door opening, each of them hoping that it’s their parents coming through it. Emmy doesn’t shriek or, in any audible way, celebrate Blaine’s arrival. But she does put down her toys and stand up at once, walking over to him with a smile and already offering her hand. Blaine takes it, but bends over to kiss her soundly and she returns the gesture.

“Hello, Kurt,” she waves at him and makes no move to go any further than that in greeting him. Kurt waves back.

“Let’s get your back pack, miss.” Blaine smiles and they go over to the shelves, with the little cubicle drawers with each kid’s names written in pretty handwriting and accompanied by not so pretty and charmingly childish drawings. Emmy drew (what looks like) butterflies and a smiling sun on hers, and, back then, it was the first time Blaine was sure she’d be okay.

He collects her bright pink bag, with brightly colored sequins and bright blue straps, from the drawer and hikes it over his shoulder.

“I can carry that.” Kurt says.

Blaine frowns slightly at the offer, but smiles.

“You got your own bag, and you’ll be doing the shopping. I can take it. It even matches my hair,” he shrugs. Blaine’s smile widens and he chuckles as he hands over the bag.

“Thanks.”

He turns to find Emmy’s teachers, to bid them goodbye, and stops short when he notices every single adult staring at him with frowns and apprehensive looks. He wants to roll his eyes and tell them to mind their own business.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says instead, voice as cheerful as ever. He turns to Emmy and grins, “Do you want to walk? Or…?”

“Up!” She grins.

He laughs at her readiness and bends over to collect her into his arms, surprisingly long and thin legs wrapping around his waist at once, and gentle hands clutching his collar, fingers settling cool against his neck.

“Tomorrow I walk,” she tells him, like usual. Apparently, she feels the need to compensate every day she chooses to be carried with assurance that she won’t need it the next day. Blaine is 90% sure she overheard him discussing the pros and cons off babying her with Wes over the phone – carrying versus walking in particular. He thought she’d been playing in her bedroom, but maybe not. And while he knows three year olds don’t exactly have the best memory or even understanding of that kind of conversation, she clearly took something out of it, so he’s been extra careful to try and show her he has no problem with whatever mode of transportation she chooses.

He kisses the top of her forehead as she holds on a little tighter and starts to walk outside.

“Wow,” Kurt says, as soon as he’s eased the door closed behind them. “You came in and it was like Jesus coming to save them. I came in and it was like they didn’t know what to do with their adoration for you.”

Blaine chuckles. “They don’t see many dads – let alone single dads. I can’t count the amount of times I had to play dumb and pretend I didn’t realize they were trying to either flirt with me or set me up on a date.”

“Why don’t you just tell them?” Kurt shrugs.

“I have.” Blaine chuckles. “Now they all want to go to Scandals with me, or take me shopping with them. I’m not exactly keen on being the token gay in the single moms club – no matter how much I kind of could use a single parents club.”

Kurt snorts. “Clearly they’ve never been to Scandals.”

“I think they’d leave running after the first glance.” Blaine smirks.

“I think _you_ ’d leave running after the first glance.” Kurt teases.

“Ha! Almost. I wanted to. But I persevered and stayed for two hours.”

“Maybe if you’d stayed two and a half we’d have met earlier.”

Blaine bumps their shoulders. “And then I really would’ve felt obligated to tell your dad you’re…”

“Throwing my life away?” Kurt rolls his eyes, but his tone is light and easy, so Blaine knows his teasing was recognized.

“Exactly,” he smiles. “Smoking, having pink hair and hitting on random alleged babysitters in the park is one thing. Frequenting that hellhole more than once and by free choice? That’s a whole level of self-destruction I can’t condone, Kurt. How much horror does one person have to be going through to voluntarily put themselves through that experience?!” he punctuates with a smile and a wink, so Kurt will know it’s just a joke. Kurt twists his nose and scratches it with his middle finger. Blaine let’s out a laugh and playfully covers Emmy’s eyes. “I also just don’t understand how it’s 2015 and there’s still no way to make an unfakeable ID.”

“They just don’t want to, Blaine. They like us kids buying our cheap, god-awful beer, and filling up their crappy clubs because we don’t have the money for the real deal. It’s all in their interest.”

Blaine pushes the door to the supermarket open, immediately closing his eyes and sighing at the air conditioning enveloping him in cool paradise. When he turns back to Kurt, the boy is smirking, and it makes Blaine kind of falter for a moment.

“So, you don’t like beer?” he asks, once he’s pulled himself back together and manages to ignore the way Kurt was looking at him.

“I’m more of a vodka guy myself,” Kurt shrugs, still looking amused. Picking up a shopping basket before Blaine could. “You? Do you have a preferred poison?”

Blaine tilts his head side to side, as they head to the fruit aisle. “I kind of like anything, if it’s mixed with enough juice or sugar,” he grimaces with a self-conscious smile. “I never grew into the taste, you know?”

“Does anyone drink it for the taste, though?” Kurt wonders as he takes a bag of apples out of Blaine’s hands to drop it into the shopping basket.

Blaine pauses in his movement of inspecting bananas. He’s not quite sure if he should press the subject, ask Kurt what he wants alcohol for if it’s not the flavor, or just go with it and pretend that it doesn’t raise any red flags. They had agreed to friendship, not a constant psychoanalysis or, even worse, some idiotic, misguided pseudo-parenting from Blaine.

“But I guess beer is the exception for me. I love it,” he bites his lip with a small, chuckled groan at the thought. “God, at the end of the day, with a game on TV… it’s a little bit like heaven, Kurt.”

Kurt quirks an eyebrow and looks at him with a wolfish grin. “And they didn’t revoke your gay license?”

Blaine shrugs and shakes his head, feigning sudden confusion at the idea. “Maybe it’s all the staring at their butts…”

Kurt laughs out loud, and Blaine wonders if it’s the first time he’s ever heard it.

“The tackling, Kurt… the tackling,” he pretends to swoon, and Kurt laughs some more.

“I played for my school’s team for a little while… I was their star kicker. I swear to god, on my first practice, those guys were so scared I’d turn them gay, but they were the ones patting each other’s butts and prancing around stark naked,” he laughs at the memory. “And let me tell you – not impressive.”

Blaine hands him a bag of oranges before they start towards another aisle, and they continue on a long, easy conversation about high school, sports teams and each of their experiences in them. Emmy will sometimes pick up random items and put them in the basket (more than once actually, accidentally knocking Blaine in the nose with cans or small boxes), and Blaine just takes 90% of them out of the basket and puts them back on the shelf without interrupting the conversation (except for when he has to stop, feel his nose and blink several times to make sure his face is still intact, and then receive an apologetic kiss from Emmy). It doesn’t stop until they’re at the register and Blaine has to turn his attention to the cashier, while Kurt takes it upon himself to stuff things into bags.

Blaine pays and helps bag the last couple of items, suddenly returning back to reality – under the cashier’s confused and attentive eyes flitting between Kurt and him– and realizing that he’s a (mostly) grown man with a three year old girl perched on his hip, accompanied by a teenager dressed all in black with bright pink hair and facial piercings.

“It’s so fu-freaking awkward to be this involved in other people’s groceries…” Kurt says as he picks up the last bag, apparently oblivious to Blaine’s little moment of self-consciousness. “You don’t think it’s weird that I know what brand of deodorant you use?”

Blaine can’t help but smile at that, as he tries to balance as many bags in his arms as possible, while still keeping Emmy in place. “Let us thank god I didn’t need to buy toilet paper or lube, right?” he mumbles with a chuckle, kind of regretting going that far as soon as he’d said it.

Kurt looks at him for a second – probably takes in the blush Blaine can feel settling into his cheeks. “Not condoms?”

Blaine bites his lip, and keeps himself from answering. He’s saved from further awkwardness when a bag slides out of his hand and they busy themselves picking it up and making sure everything’s better distributed.

“I walk now, daddy.” Emmy says after that. “It’s little to home only. It’s okay. My tiny legs can do it.”

Blaine breathes in relief and immediately bends lower and lets her squirm out of his hold. They start heading outside, blessedly getting out of sight from the cashier and everyone else, whose eyes Blaine can feel glued to the back of his neck

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard her say.” Kurt notes as they reach outside, and Blaine notices he’s holding two bags as well as Emmy’s back pack.

“Oh, I-” he shuffles his three bags to one arm and goes to grab Kurt’s but then something stops him and what he finds himself saying is quite the opposite. “Do you want to come over? We’re having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.”

Kurt seems to suppress some kind of smirk or comment before he shrugs and says, “It’s not like you can carry this all by yourself.”

Blaine pretends to glare. “It’s not like you’ve got something better to do.”

Kurt looks a little startled at that, even if pleasantly so, and laughs. “Touché.”

-x-

Kurt helps him put the groceries away, teasing him about the apartment at every single chance he finds (and it’s Kurt, so he always finds something to make fun of), while Emmy also tries to help (and gets mostly in the way, but it’s adorable so Blaine always lets her).

When Blaine starts making dinner, Kurt sits on the counter to watch him, and Emmy brings her little playground blanket and lays it down on the kitchen floor (Blaine takes a minute to make sure it’s not in his way, pulling everything over to a corner) and starts bringing over all of her toys. Blaine assumes, like most days, she’ll just plop down and entertain herself while he’s busy, but instead she goes over to Kurt, yanking at his jeans for his attention.

“Come play!” she beams, gesturing at her wonderful collection of toys.

Kurt stutters for a moment.

“You don’t have to-” Blaine starts at once, but he’s interrupted when Kurt simply slides off the counter and follows Emmy to her blanket, sitting down and letting her take the lead.

For a moment the only thing Blaine is aware of his how hard and fast his heart is beating, but after a second or two, he goes back to chopping onions, keeping all of his attention on their quiet, calm voices. It’s mostly Kurt doing the talking, and every now and then he will say some word that makes Blaine cringe, but mostly he just manages to follow her challenging few worded lead into some sort of activity. Still, throughout all of that time, even though their conversation makes him smile and chuckle plenty of times, Blaine’s chest is tight and he can’t quite breathe.

By the time dinner is almost ready and Blaine starts setting the table, silence has mostly settled over the three of them. He stops short in his movements as he realizes Kurt is carefully and perfectly painting Emmy’s nails a bright shade of pink. He chuckles to himself as he resumes grabbing two normal plates and Emmy’s favorite, bright yellow plate.

“He do better than you, daddy,” Emmy says in response.

“A person with Parkinson’s does it better than me.” Blaine laughs. “But is it going to be dry in time for you to eat, honey?”

She considers it for a moment before she starts ferociously blowing on the hand that Kurt’s finished already. Blaine notices the smile that appears on Kurt’s features and his chest tightens even further.

“He can do yours, daddy,” Emmy pipes up – and Blaine considers for the first time that she may be convinced the only reason Blaine doesn’t wear nail polish is his complete inability to put it on properly. She has a fair point.

“After dinner,” he smiles.

“I choose color?”

“Of course,” he tells her, ducking down on the way back to the table, to set the silverware, and kissing the top of her head swiftly.

“You will look more pretty,” she grins up at him. “I promise.”

“I know I will, honey. You have the best taste.”

She goes back to blowing on her nails and Kurt looks between the two of them with amused awe.

“It’s amazing…” he sighs. “It’s like she has a maximum amount of words per minute, how she starts talking, just enough to get a point across, and then just stops.”

Blaine doesn’t reply to that – he doesn’t like to comment on it too much, lest she feel pressure to talk more. He gives Kurt a tight smile, instead, and then just glances at Emmy to make sure she’s not bothered by the comment. She’s still making sure her right hand nail polish will be dry before dinner (but she _is_ remarkably stiff, so he knows she _was_ paying attention).

Blaine finishes setting the table and checks the spaghetti. It’s not quite ready, so he settles for leaning quietly against the counter and watching the two of them for a minute. Kurt finishes with a flourish and the two of them take to blowing on the nails. He kind of wants to break the silence and the moment, but he doesn’t, and so he just keeps feeling that weird weight on his chest.

“Do you not like talking?” Kurt asks, as brazen as usual. Emmy seems a little startled and even betrayed at the sudden break of their amiable silence.

She just looks at him and shrugs.

“Fair enough,” he nods. “I kind of like this mysterious silence thing you got going on, to be honest.”

Emmy just frowns a little, probably confused at the phrasing and looks up at Blaine. He smiles softly and winks, which never fails to make her smile in return. “He likes you, honey,” he explains quietly, before he turns back around to check on the spaghetti again.

-x-

She chooses turquoise nails for Blaine and he must say they do look rather dashing with his polo for the day (he refrains from pointing out he will not be wearing that polo the next day, because that seems counter productive). Kurt doesn’t really comment on how easily Blaine agreed to it, but he’d caught Kurt biting a smirk off his lips more than once. Or was it a genuine smile? Either way, he just paints Blaine’s nails without protest, and all the while Blaine ignores the touch of Kurt’s hand holding his own steady. Emmy sits between them on the couch, closely supervising the work so she can be sure to keep her promise, and somewhat ignoring the conversation that starts flowing between the two men at some point.

At nine thirty pm, Emmy throws the first temper tantrum in weeks when Blaine announces she has to go to bed. It’s not like they’d been playing anything with her, but she’d been watching the two of them sitting on the couch, talking, while she dished out drawing after drawing, more than half of which for Kurt to take, naturally (but a considerable amount dedicated to Blaine so he wouldn’t be jealous). Blaine carries her resolutely to her bedroom, and ignores most of her crying and protesting as he puts her pajamas on, and then brushes her teeth and sits in front of her, waiting for her to go pee-pee and keeping his laughter in check while she bawls her eyes out on the potty and un-gives all of her drawings. He documents most of it with his phone.

It takes him three songs to get her to sleep, where it usually takes him three verses (she prefers songs to books). Finally, though, he turns on the baby monitor, tiptoes out of the bedroom, and clicks the door closed as silently as possible.

When he reaches the living room he finds Kurt sitting on the couch with the TV on the same show they’d watched together the other night, and an uncapped beer waiting for him. Blaine’s mostly surprised to notice the weight hasn’t lifted off his chest.

He sits next to Kurt in silence and takes a sip of the beer.

“Is this a common occurrence? Or was it just a special show for me?”

Blaine smiles a little tiredly. “Just for you.” He only pauses for a moment before he tilts the bottle towards Kurt, offering.

“Nah. I already tried it before you came, and it still tastes like piss.”

“Classy.”

“Tastes like detergent?”

“A little better.” Blaine mumbles, allowing himself to turn and look at Kurt. He’s sitting mostly towards Blaine, his legs folded under him and an arm over the back of the couch. “Isn’t your dad worried about you?”

Kurt shrugs and shakes his head. “I told him I was having dinner at a friend’s.”

“Okay.”

They kind of settle into watching the shitty show, sharing comments and jokes every now and then. Kurt’s body doesn’t turn to the TV and Blaine pretends that doesn’t worsen the tightness in his own body. By the time he has finished the beer he’s managed to at least get used to that feeling of crawling skin – even if he can’t shake it off, he might as well learn to live with it. He doesn’t get another beer, he’s not into indulging on week nights, and certainly not while it can cloud his judgment in a situation he just barely cares to admit to himself might be problematic.

They’re halfway through the second episode – Blaine purposefully avoiding his watch – when Kurt speaks in a serious tone that has nothing to do with his previous jokes.

“I sent in a bunch of applications last week.”

Blaine turns to look at him, surprised at the sudden topic.

“The waiting might be the worst part.”

Blaine can’t exactly just reassure him mindlessly. He has no idea what kind of student Kurt was, and he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. “Yeah, it’s kind of shitty. Do you have any idea what your chances are?”

Kurt shrugs. “They didn’t ask for a full body picture, so they’re kind of good,” he pauses and looks at Blaine, trying to gauge his reaction. When Blaine fails to provide him with any, he quirks an eyebrow. “Surprised?”

Blaine offers him a teasing smile. “Did you want me to be surprised?”

Kurt rolls his eyes, obviously uncomfortable with his attitude being thrown back at him. “Whatever.”

“I know you’re more than the way you dress.” Blaine murmurs with a smile before he turns back to the show.

From the corner of his eye he can see that Kurt is still looking at him, and he wishes he’d just kept teasing.

It’s another long time before they speak again. The credits are rolling when Kurt mutters. “You have to promise me that my dad isn’t gonna die, though.”

Blaine startles. “What?”

“If I’m gonna leave Lima, he can’t die anytime soon.”

Blaine has no idea what to say to that. For a long time he just stares, mouth half open as words try to find their way out. Finally he sighs and shakes his head, “I can’t actually promise you that, Kurt.”

“He could be hit by a truck…?” Kurt offers with an acid smile.

“Or he could have a heart attack, or a stroke…”

Kurt frowns, “But you said-”

“His blood work and every test we’ve made have come back good. The prospect is very positive, but Kurt… There is always a margin for unpredictability.”

There’s a moment where they’re both silent and still, as if frozen before Kurt lets out a long, heavy breath and lets his head fall back.

“I hate that you can’t promise me that.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt.” Blaine murmurs, reaching out to squeeze his knee, slow and gentle. Kurt lays his cheek against the back of the couch as he looks at Blaine.

“I kind of trust you, you know? That’s… that’s why I… If you promised I would… I don’t know…”

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”

Kurt just nods and looks away, eyes a little too bright.

“I shouldn’t be this scared, should I?” Kurt breathes. “My mom died and… I was okay. So I should know it’ll be fine if he dies too… I’ll survive, I guess.”

“Kurt, that’s not how it works. Of course you’ll survive. But your dad is important to you. You should be afraid to lose him. The problem with most of us is that we’re never afraid to lose anyone… we go through life thinking we have forever with the people we love, and then we don’t and we’re left with all these things we wanted to say and no one to say them to. You’re one step ahead. The only thing you can do is to not waste the chances to tell him what you want him to know.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know.” Blaine nods a little sadly.

“It didn’t scare me this much, when it was my mom.”

“You were young. Nothing is ever so scary when you’re young.” Blaine can’t help glancing at Emmy’s toys all over the floor. “Kids bounce back. Adults… not so much.”

Kurt smiles, a little slow, but somehow still cheeky. “So I really am an adult, huh?”

Blaine chuckles and reaches forward to punch his leg a little lightly, “I can always change my mind…”

Kurt just laughs, small and quiet, before he rest his head back on the couch. “Were you and your brother very close?”

Blaine sighs. “We wanted to be,” he rubs the back of his neck as he talks. “Growing up with Cooper wasn’t easy – he liked the spotlight and he wasn’t keen on sharing. And he was… a lot older. We didn’t manage to really start… liking each other until I was in high school. But by then he was living on the other side of the country. We tried keeping in touch. He apologized for… a lot of things, I did too… I don’t know. We were close in our own way. We had each other’s backs, especially when the problem was our parents, but we didn’t exactly talk every day, or even every week.”

Kurt nods his understanding. “But you’re still raising his daughter.”

“He trusted me more than anyone else in his life,” Blaine smiles. “I love him for it. I love him for a lot of things, too, but in great part for that. Without that, I’m not quite sure I would’ve managed to trust myself.”

Kurt watches him for a moment more before he glances at the TV. “Holy shit, they manage to drag the drama out for _ever_.”

Blaine smiles as he settles back toward the TV, more than happy to drop the subject.

The little comments and jokes don’t really return, though, and at some point Blaine’s more asleep than awake. Of course, Kurt doesn’t waste the opportunity to tease him about it, and Blaine just laughs and shoves right back at him.

“Some of us work, you know…”

“I work too!” Kurt shoots back with a smile, taking his wallet out of his pocket and pulling a card out. “I sell ice cream, as you very well know, and I also put in some hours at my dad’s business. Hummel Lube and Tires! If you ever have any car troubles, just call us up. And aim for a Wednesday or a Friday, which are the days I work there.”

Blaine takes it with a laugh. “My car is brand new. So, I hope it won’t be a long time before I need to use this…”

Kurt shrugs, “So, I’ll just have to keep inviting myself to your home…”

“You don’t have to invite yourself, Kurt. The invitation comes from me,” he smiles and pats Kurt’s shoulder amiably.

“You totally want me to leave so you can go sleep, don’t you?”

Blaine keeps himself from laughing and nods. “Not totally. But kind of, yeah.”

“Fine…” with a grunt the remote is grabbed and the TV switched off.

The silence startles Blaine and leaves him disoriented. He stands for lack of something better to do, swallows before he forces himself to do or say something remotely logical. “How are you getting home? It’s kind of late, I don’t…”

“Relax,” Kurt says as he moves towards the door and Blaine follows him. “I got my car right by your office. I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” he nods. The crawling skin, and the heavy chest and breathlessness are all back, full force and impossible to ignore. His hand is shaking when he reaches to open the door. He dearly hopes Kurt doesn’t notice, and keeps his eyes on the floor, watching Kurt’s feet stepping forward.

“Sleep tight.” Kurt says, triggering Blaine into looking up, despite his better judgment, and before he knows it, he’s leaning forward and kissing Kurt. Pressing their lips together, feeling Kurt’s barely there stubble under his finger tips as they graze Kurt’s jaw, struggling not to grab and pull closer. He takes a deep breath and for that moment every thing else is gone – the crawling skin stops crawling, the heavy chest stops weighing, the breathlessness breathes.

He loses himself in it and in the way Kurt kisses him back, grabbing his hesitant hands and pressing them flat against his neck, wrapping an arm close and strong around Blaine’s neck, pressing his body close.

He doesn’t know exactly when reality crashes back, or what prompts it too, but he pulls back with a gasp and everything comes back to him twofold.

“I- oh my god- I-I’m so sorry! That- that was so inappropriate. I-I-I-Let me know when you get home safe. Good night, Kurt.” He gets it through in one weak breath before he practically slams the door in Kurt’s face.

“Shit…” he gasps, back pressing hard against the door, as if it was going to open itself and push him back against Kurt.

Obviously he doesn’t sleep all night. Especially not after Kurt’s text.

_You can stop worrying. Home safe. Have a good night._

Not that there’s anything in the text that makes him feel worse, but there isn’t anything that makes him feel better either. He knows how easily Kurt affects casualness, and how often it’s genuine – which is not often at all.

He types back “You too.” before he all but throws the phone away, for fear that his fingers get a will of their own, like his lips did, and start typing things he never meant to say.

Things he never meant to _want_ to say.

Like the kiss he never meant to _want_ to give.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion (of the last few months, of the long day, of the way he’s relentlessly trying to keep himself from admitting that what crawls through his skin and weighs on his chest and stops his breath is how he does _want_ ), maybe it’s the colossal mistake just now, maybe it really is how lonely he is all the time except when he has a new text from Kurt or his piercing, perceptive eyes on him. Suddenly, for whatever reason it might be, there are tears in his eyes.

Blaine should take it as a victory that it’s the first time in months he’s not crying about Cooper, but he just wants to put himself to sleep and stop the tears rolling off the side of his face, into his hair and ears. He stares at his dark ceiling and keeps himself still, willing sleep to come and everything else to disappear.

-x-

There’s radio silence for a month. Blaine can’t bring himself to call or text Kurt, not even to apologize again, and Kurt decides, apparently, that it’s Blaine’s turn to make a move. Either that or he definitely hates Blaine for that kiss.

Blaine’s kind of resigned to the fact that he failed at something as simple as being an open, friendly ear for someone else. He expects the radio silence to go on forever now. For them to drift so completely apart that this will be nothing but a cringe worthy far-away memory, and a drunken “remember that time I almost fell for a teenager?!”

But at some point he just can’t take it anymore.

**I’m sorry about what happened, and the fact that I was a complete coward afterward. I didn’t mean to kiss you. I know it’s not what we’re supposed to be about and I still can’t believe I did that. I promise it won’t happen again.**

_Um. Ok._

**And apparently I kind of ruined the only friendship I had in Lima. I guess I really will have to resort to the single parents club.**

_It’s a self-pity party now? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?_

**I don’t know what to tell you…**

_For the record, I was never mad about the kiss. I’m mad you decided to pretend I didn’t exist for a whole month, after telling me time and time again that you wanted to be there for me and making me trust you._

**I know. I’m sorry.**

_I don’t even understand why you thought I’d be mad at that. You were always the one who didn’t want me, not the other way around._

**You make it sound like I was some cruel jerk who rejected you for no reason. I just don’t think it’s appropriate.**

_Look, whatever. I don’t care why you don’t want it, or why you kissed me if you clearly think I’m such a bad option. I just actually kind of liked hanging out with you, and talking to you. My other friends never really understood me the way you did._

**I know. I liked that too. I miss it.**

_You can say you miss me. I won’t misinterpret it._

**I miss you. Yeah.**

_Fine. But I’m not making any first moves any time soon._

**Fair enough. My parents are spending the day with Emmy tomorrow. Do you wanna go catch a movie or something?**

-x-

“So, that was terrible,” is the first thing out of Kurt’s mouth once the credits started rolling.

Blaine laughs. “I’m sorry, I invited you before I checked what were the options.”

Things are still kind of awkward, and in the five minutes it took to meet and buy the tickets it was clear to see conversation was stilted.

“You know,” Kurt says as they reach the street after a lengthy silence. “They say that the best thing to stop a situation from becoming too awkward is to admit that it is, and then force it not to be.”

Blaine hangs his head with a huff of laughter.

“So now that we’ve admitted to the awkwardness, let us force it away,” Kurt smiles. “For instance, I can tell you right now that you look especially grandpa-ish today.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and forces himself not to fidget with his cardigan.

“Are you actively trying _not_ to look attractive? Because let me remind you, as surprising as it seems, you’re the one who can’t control the urges, not me.”

Just like that, Blaine can feel is skin turning boiling hot. Kurt eyes him for a moment before his smile grows a little, turns into something verging on evil.

“Made it awkward all over again, didn’t I?”

Blaine sighs and tries to smile as he nods. Kurt just keeps his eyes on him, as if he’s trying to figure something out, and Blaine knows he must find a way to change the subject really, really soon. “So, how are the college applications?”

“Radio silence so far.” Kurt shrugs. “But it’s still early.”

“Right, of course. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll get in.”

Kurt smirks at Blaine’s rushed, empty reassurance.

“Do you know what you’ll study when you go…?”

“Fashion design.” Kurt nods. Blaine must look surprised, because he laughs and shrugs. “You don’t think I look fashionable?”

Blaine tries not to go the awkward path again, and instead he smiles, “I’m sure you’ll revolutionize the punk scene.”

“I’m not punk.” Kurt laughs.

“So, I really _am_ old.”

Kurt just smirks again, all teasing and glorious before he shakes his head. “No, I’m just… I don’t know what I am, really. I don’t have a label for this… I guess the darkness started winning out, and consumed my wardrobe or something.”

“And the pink?”

“A memento from my colorful past.” Kurt winks. “Nah, I’m just kidding. I always loved cutting edge clothes… But buying Mark Jacobs and Calvin Klein gets kind of impossible when there are hospital bills to pay,” he shrugs. His voice doesn’t sound all that bitter so Blaine doesn’t offer him any voiced sympathy. “I found other ways to express my feelings in my clothes, and I also found that people were less likely to come to me and express their opinions on my person if I was dressed like this. I feel like this fits me – at least right now. But it doesn’t mean it’s the only thing I like.”

“Tell me all about it, then…”

“About the people who expressed their opinions? It was mostly just fa-”

“No. About fashion design, and what you like,” Blaine tells him with a smile. “We don’t always have to talk about the crappy stuff.”

Kurt looks at him for a moment, Blaine could swear his smile turned genuine and soft for a moment there, as he seems to ponder something before he nods and continues talking about his love of fashion and design.

The conversation doesn’t end until 4 am in Kurt’s car parked outside Blaine’s apartment building. There’s some sort of unspoken agreement that Kurt won’t go up, but there’s also one that they don’t want to stop talking yet.

They have four weeks of conversation to catch up, after all – and even more years to talk about, to fill in the blanks of what their lives were, of what colors made the painting each of them found. Friday night becomes a fixture, and more then once, over the week, Kurt will come over for dinner and bad TV. And while the crawling skin, the heavy chest, and the breathlessness come back to Blaine, not even waiting until he sets his eyes on Kurt and his high held head and straight shoulders, coming to him first thing in the morning without leaving until sleep takes over (sometimes not even then), he does gets a little better at ignoring the feeling and knowledge of what it is and enjoying all the time he spends with Kurt.

-x-

_I want to buy this bright blue shirt, but I don’t want you getting a big head thinking you’re bringing me back to life or whatever._

**Ahahahah! 1- you could’ve just bought it and not said anything about it. 2- you suggesting that I would think I am, makes me wonder if I am. 3- it’s been scientifically proven to be impossible for me to get a big head, don’t worry.**

_1- but I also want to wear it tonight, to soften the blow of actually having agreed to go bowling_ _with you. 3- oh my god, I do not want to know about your erectile dysfunction, old man._

**1- I barely even had to insist. You’re looking forward to it. 2- you ignored this point because maybe you can’t handle admitting that it’s true…? 3- eff you.**

_1- I’m looking forward to kissing your ass. 3- Emmy is not reading these! Stop being lame!_

_KICK_

_KICKING YOUR ASS._

**I snorted milk through my nose, Kurt. My desk is covered in milk and my nose is burning like hell.**

_I’m proud of myself right now._

**You’re the meanest friend I’ve ever had.**

_You’re the one who keeps me around, inviting me to things as incredibly lame as bowling._

**Do you want me to uninvite you?**

_…No…_

**It’s okay to say I’m “bringing you back to life”, or however you wanna put it, Kurt. I think you’re doing the same for me.**

_(picture of a bed covered in new articles of clothing – all of them are colorful, with bold patterns or interesting plaids, but they keep a sort of edge to them that fits Kurt)_

-x-

“So…” Blaine starts smugly, as he spins on his heels, facing Kurt with his hands on his hips. “I believe you said you couldn’t wait to kiss my ass.”

Kurt scowls. “Ew, gross, old man. It’s probably all wrinkly and saggy anyway.”

Blaine laughs and refrains from correcting him, as he normally would. As proud as he is of his own ass, he’s not comfortable encouraging Kurt to stare at it.

“Well, saggy and wrinkly as it may be, it just beat yours. So.” He gives Kurt another smug smirk and takes an obnoxious little bow, to which Kurt rolls his eyes and stands up.

“You’re buying me a milkshake and fries at the diner across the street.”

Blaine lets his hand get grabbed and himself be dragged across the bowling alley, towards the exit. “Shouldn’t it be the loser paying?”

“No, it should definitely be the winner, who has already gained something to celebrate today, and especially if said winner is a doctor and probably makes a shit ton of money to just sit around and listen to old people complain about how they haven’t taken a shit in a week.”

Blaine scoffs, and then groans as they step outside only to be blinded by the sudden sun and hit by suffocating heat. “I don’t make that much money yet, and I don’t think I could ever be paid enough to endure that.”

“Well, you chose it!” Kurt shrugs in the least sympathetic tone ever. He starts jay walking across the street without a second glance, and Blaine hesitates, looking both ways, before he follows.

“I didn’t choose this,” Blaine frowns, catching up. “I came here because of Emmy. I had the perfect residency for what I really wanted before that happened. I’m making do, but this wasn’t what I went to med school for.”

“What was it?” Kurt asks, holding the door to the diner open. “Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess.”

“Go ahead,” Blaine shrugs, sliding into the first empty booth he can find.

Kurt all but throws himself in the seat opposite Blaine’s and lays his arms on the table, bracing himself for something strenuous as he stares playfully hard at Blaine.

“I want to say something megalomaniacally heroic.”

Blaine lets the corner of his mouth twist up as he just signals the waitress to come over and take their order.

“Trauma surgeon? That was like… the most awesome option on Grey’s Anatomy, right? And it’d make sense with your backstory?”

Blaine sputters, laughing for a moment before he shakes his head. “My backstory? I’m not actually a character on a show. And no. Not trauma surgery.”

The conversation is momentarily interrupted by the waitress’ arrival. “Hello boys, what can I get you?” Blaine gives her a smile and then gestures for Kurt to go ahead. He just grabs the menu, looks it over for a moment and starts prattling off.

“Peach milkshake, waffle a la mode, with chocolate ice-cream, a plate of French fries and a cheesecake slice.”

Blaine chokes on air and delves into a coughing fit, to which Kurt smirks.

“I like it when you buy me stuff,” he tilts his head to the side, and bats his eyelashes.

With a steadying breath Blaine just shakes his head and sighs, “I’ll have a peach milkshake, too. And you can bring two sets of silverware.”

She smiles and nods. “Coming right up.”

The moment she disappears Blaine squints at Kurt. “You’re a hypocrite, you know that?”

Kurt shrugs and nods. “Neurosurgery?”

Blaine laughs. “How pretentious do you think I am? And seriously, there is more to medicine than Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Oh! Oh! I know! How did I not think of this before? You wanted to be a psychiatrist, probably specialized in teens.”

Blaine does grin at that. “Well, it _was_ a big option for me, I’ll give you that. But no. Do you want me to go ahead and tell you now?”

“Ugh.” Kurt throws himself back against his seat and pouts for a moment. “Fine. Maybe you’re not that predictable.”

“Pediatrics.” Blaine grins.

“What?!” Kurt gasps. Picking up a bunch of napkins and throwing them at his face. “You told me to steer clear off Grey’s Anatomy! You cheated! That _is_ super predictable and it would’ve been my next guess! Fuck off, Anderson. You probably cheated at bowling, too.”

“Grey’s Anatomy had pediatric _surgery_ – it’s a whole different game.” Blaine laughs. “And anyway, how could I cheat you into failing all of your throws?”

-x-

**Kurt kurt kurt. How do you make a Kleenex dance?**

_Wtf?_

**Put a little boogie in it!!!**

_Wtf?_

**Sorry. I realized I don’t actually know any good dad jokes. I had this patient with his son, and he was full of them (including that one), and suddenly it hit me. I need to study up on them, or else Emmy is going to grow up without being ashamed of me, which is the worst thing you can do to your kids. Those kids bond over shameful parents. The dad jokes are essential for kid bonding.**

_Blaine. I can’t even right now._

**Ugh. I hate it when you pretend like you’re so above it all. You laughed at the joke, and you laughed at my rant.**

_I always laugh at you._

**Do you think anyone would actually believe that I was the one to pursue this friendship…?**

_If it’s any consolation, I’m sure that even without dad jokes Emmy is going to find plenty of things to be ashamed of you._

**I’m torn between asking for examples or just giving up on being your friend altogether, Mr. Charmer.**

_The bowties. The way you eat literally everything with a knife and fork. The way you always say “bless you” even to the creepy old lady at the park that is clearly a ghost and even if the person has sneezed seven times in the last twenty seconds. The way you sympathize with the pigs. The way you always sing along to the song even if you don’t know the lyrics._

**But I’m proud of all of that.**

_The way that you’re proud of those things…_

**Did I catch you in a bad mood?**

_I’m always in a bad mood._

**That is true.**

_But it always cheers me up to mess with you._

**As long as you genuinely, even if secretly and begrudgingly, enjoy my company.**

_I will admit to no such thing!_

**You already have, Kurt.**

-x-

“Do you know what I regret the most?” Kurt asks, from where he’s currently braiding Emmy’s hair into a strange, intricate and not particularly that pretty hairdo.

Blaine looks up from his scrapbooking, struggling with a piece of paper that refuses to glue to anything besides his fingers. “What?”

“That we only met after I graduated,” he announces. “Think of the opportunities missed. There I am, at your kitchen table, doing my homework while you cook dinner, and I lift my head and look at you and ask, Blaine, I feel like my History paper is too vague, can you tell me what it was _really_ like back then?”

Blaine feels his lips stretch into a smile while he finishes the page for Emmy’s latest tantrum – he likes to document them, mostly because he thinks it’ll be funny to show it to her every couple of years.

“You’d have to be more specific than that. With all of these decades on me, I’d hardly know which of the many major historic events I’ve witnessed firsthand you were talking about.”

He glances up and catches Kurt smiling. “You know, it’s less fun when you play along.”

Blaine refrains from pointing out it certainly doesn’t look like it. Instead he just sighs. “Kids these days… play so many videogames and watch so many gore movies, they get addicted to conflict. Whatever happened to funny puppets singing songs? Those were the days…”

“I think this is even worse than that first day we met,” Kurt snorts, referring to Emmy’s hair. The girl frowns and pushes herself to her feet, speeding off to look in the full body mirror in Blaine’s bedroom.

Kurt watches her go for a moment and then sighs and crawls over to Blaine’s side of the room, where he’s sitting surrounded by paper, glue, and glitter. Blaine keeps his eyes resolutely on his work and not on Kurt’s hips and shoulders, moving slow and languid like a cat’s.

For a moment Blaine expects him to say something snarky, maybe even a little rude. But after a while, where Kurt just sits there with his mouth a little open, quite possibly running witty comment over witty comment in his mind, he just sighs.

“I think you’re shaping up to be a great dad, you know?” he flicks over a few of the pictures Blaine printed and had yet to glue. “Don’t you dare give her to your parents.”

Blaine can’t help but be taken aback for a moment, but before he knows it he grins. He could be mean, he could kill the moment by being as obnoxious as Kurt always is, but instead he lets the satisfaction envelop him. “Thank you. I Won’t.”

“I should probably do the cutting, though. I don’t think you know how to use scissors…” Kurt mumbles, his cheeks a little pink. “This is all wonky,” he adds in a whisper.

“These scissors are for kids, Kurt…” Blaine smirks, as he pushes the offending item towards Kurt. “Of course you can use them better than me.”

“You’re getting better at those…” Kurt murmurs with a quirked eyebrow, leaning a little close to grab the scissors. Kurt’s eyes flick downwards and Blaine feels his smile faltering.

“Horrible!” Emmy gasps, storming back inside, half of her hairdo already undone.

-x-

 _Do you wanna cook me dinner tomorrow? My dad has a date (?!?!?!?!?!), there’s no real food in the house and I’ll admit that your meatballs with spaghetti are super delicious (no_ _innuendo intended)._

**Damn, I’d love to, but I can’t. I already have plans.**

_Hot date as well?_

**Best friend visiting.**

_Oh cool. Have fun._

-x-

Blaine looks at his cell phone with a cold, uncomfortable feeling to his stomach. The polite thing to do would have been to invite Kurt over. It’s not like Wes would be idiotic enough to comment on either Kurt’s age or wardrobe choices right there in front of him. Afterwards, maybe, but that wouldn’t really faze Blaine and he knows Wes wouldn’t really mean most of it.

There’s something else, though, lurking in the darkness of Blaine’s mind, keeping him from inviting Kurt and Blaine doesn’t want to tempt the creature out of hiding, for fear of what it might bring with it.

So, instead he has a nice weekend in Wes’ company. Emmy, just as easily as with Kurt, falls in love with the new friend (they had met before, but she didn’t remember him, as expected), and alternates between letting them have their adult conversations, and demanding some sort of attention. They talk a lot about Blaine’s re-application to the residency, and it leaves him excited for when the applications finally open.

Blaine almost manages to shake the nagging guilt sensation off.

-x-

**I’m sorry I didn’t invite you over.**

_Blaine, it’s four in the morning on a Sunday. This couldn’t have waited till tomorrow?_

**Oh shit. I didn’t notice. Sorry for waking you up. Will resume apology tomorrow.**

_It’s fine, resume it now. But I’m not mad, okay? It’s fine. We’ve been hanging out a lot. You’re allowed to hang out with your other friends. It’s not like you signed an exclusivity contract._

**Yeah. But it still felt weird. I wanted to.**

_You didn’t and I didn’t expect you to. It’s fine. I know you’re not exactly jumping with anticipation to show off your new friend. I get it. No worries._

**What? It’s not like that at all!**

_Look, I get it. You’re telling yourself you weren’t trying to hide me, but you were and I get it. You don’t even have to admit it if you don’t want to. I’m 18 and wearing combat boots. I see the way people look at you whenever they see you with me. I’m not clueless._

**I don’t care about that.**

_Don’t you?_

**Of course not.**

_You’re lying. But whatever._

**I’m not. It’s not about that.**

_What is it about then?_

**I don’t know, but it’s not that.**

_Right. Whatever. You’re forgiven, don’t worry. I have to go to sleep now, I wake up early tomorrow._

**Yeah. I’m clearly forgiven…**

_Yeah. You really are. Good night._

**Sleep well, Kurt.**

-x-

Blaine’s doorbell rings at three am on Wednesday. He frowns; already half scared at the prospect as he pads in his briefs to the front door, not even bothering to pull on a t-shirt or a robe.

As soon as he opens the door, though, there’s Kurt standing there, looking exactly as he always did, except for the red cheeks, glassy eyes and the half empty bottle of vodka in his hands.

“Kurt.” He gasps.

Kurt laughs rushing forwards and practically collapsing on Blaine, as he presses a clumsy finger to his lips and says, “Shhhhhh! You’ll wake Emmy!”

He pushes against Blaine, until he’s pressed against the wall, away from the door, and Kurt’s stumbling inside the house. Crashing on the couch almost face first.

“Got in!” he says, voice slurred and too loud, and Blaine really does have to keep himself from shushing him.

“What?” he says walking a little bit closer.

“Got into college for the fall semester!” Kurt moves in languid, awkward movements until he’s sitting and facing Blaine. “We have to celebrate!”

Blaine rubs a hand over his face and sighs. “Something tells me you already started on that.”

Kurt giggles, and waves his hand around, in a so-so manner that looks more like… wild gesturing.

“Kurt, can I have that bottle, please?”

Kurt grins as he nods. “It’s for you!” he offers it, “Happy father’s day!”

Blaine frowns as he takes it, “It’s not father’s day.”

“I know…” Kurt laughs, “But I needed an excuse to come here talk to you…”

“I… I’m just gonna go put this in the kitchen.” He says as he leaves trying not to sigh too loudly.

“Do you think I should take it back to Scandals when it’s over?”

Blaine closes his eyes and tries not to think about Kurt, in this sate, alone in that seedy bar. He pours the vodka down the drain before he returns to the living room.

“Kurt, were y-”

“You’re naked.” Kurt gasps, pushing himself to his feet and hurrying over.

Blaine crosses his arms over his chest at once and tries not to step back too much. “I was sleeping.”

“With someone else?” Kurt frowns, turning towards the hallway. Blaine grabs his arm before he can go barging in through doors looking for Blaine’s bedroom.

“No, alone. Actually sleeping,” he directs Kurt back to the couch. “Kurt, were you… hum, you came from scandals?”

“Yes. It was practically empty though… just really, old ugly men so I stole the vodka and left. It’s not as good when you only have the vodka, though. You’re right. It’s better with juice. I’m sorry I didn’t bring the juice. I should’ve brought the juice.”

“That’s- it’s fine. So you weren’t drunk in scandals?” Blaine asks, already letting the relief pour over his body.

Kurt smirks and raises his hand, thumb and index finger very close together. “Mostly I just got drunk because I needed it to come find you.”

Blaine swallows at that and tries not to let his eyes find Kurt’s as he sits down next to Kurt.

“I’m gonna call your dad, okay?”

“No,” Kurt shakes his head. Not the panicky way Blaine was expecting – just like someone who had a better idea. “I got into college and I wanna celebrate, and my dad can’t take my virginity, so… Let’s not call him, okay?”

“Can’t take-what? Kurt?!”

“I just-“ before Blaine knows what’s happening, Blaine’s got a lap full of Kurt, lips on his neck, and hands pressing all over his torso. “I know you think I only wanted sex, but it’s okay, it’s okay-”

“Kurt! No!”

He grabs Kurt’s arms and pushes him away, but Kurt is surprisingly strong, pulls himself back in, swallowing Blaine’s protests with an open-mouthed kiss and hands travelling too deep south. Blaine has to flip them, throwing Kurt back first against the couch. For a second that only seems to make Kurt cling harder, with a laughing squeal, but Blaine finally manages to squirm out of his hands and crosses his living room in less than a second, hastily pulling his briefs up where Kurt had tugged them halfway down.

“Kurt, what the hell!”

Kurt just stares at him for a full minute, a genuinely confused frown on his face, before it draws into anger, eyes bright, as he pushes himself to his feet and stalks towards the front door.

“I’m sorry, I thought maybe someone in this town didn’t think I was repulsive or whatever.”

“Kurt!” Blaine gasps, “That’s not-“

He’s interrupted by the slam of the door. It hits so hard that the frame hanging next to it crashes to the floor.

Blaine moves to follow, but by the time he gets over his momentary paralysis Emmy bedroom door is inching open. “Daddy?!”

He glances one last time at the front door, and the shards of glass right next to it, before he rushes over to the little girl, lest she come in barefoot and cut herself on the glass.

“Hey, baby, I’m so sorry. Daddy went to take out the garbage and there was a draft so the door slammed too hard. I’m so sorry I woke you, honey.” He picks her up and takes her back to her bed, as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Okay?” she mumbles.

“Yes, baby, everything’s okay. You can go back to sleep.”

She nods and holds his hand extra tight. Blaine recognizes it as the sign that she wants him to sing her back to sleep, so he does. It’s better than to think about what the hell just happened.

-x-

**I don’t think we’re healthy for each other right now. I think we’re both too lonely to deal with this the way we should. I don’t think we should see each other anymore or talk. I’m sorry.**

_You say each other, you mean you, you, you, you._

_This has nothing to do with loneliness or lack of options. This is about you. I know you expected me to wake up today and stumble over my words apologizing and embarrassed about throwing myself at you last night, so we could pretend things could go back to normal, but I’m not. I’m not the one to blame._

_I will apologize for continuing to force myself on you when you clearly said no – I’m sorry. But I don’t apologize for going over, or for thinking that it was something you wanted too._

_You just don’t want to face any part of what you did here._

_Why did you freak out when YOU kissed me? Why does it always feel like you’re stopping yourself from doing it again when you say hello and goodbye every time we see each other? Why does it always feel like you’re stopping yourself from doing it again whenever I move a little closer? Why do you move closer when I don’t? I just can’t believe that I made it up._

_Am I wrong? Do you feel nothing like that for me?_

_I know I didn’t make it all up in my head._

_And I’m sick of pretending like you don’t know I fell in love with you. All this time, you could have stopped it. You knew. I know you did, and you could have stopped it. But you kept encouraging it. So either you feel something back, or you’re just the cruelest person I’ve ever met._

_I can’t have made this all up in my head. I just can’t._

_And you’re being cruel ignoring me right now. Ignoring this every single time we meet. You’re cruel and a coward, Blaine. That’s what you are._

_I just don’t get why._

 


	3. Part Three - They Get

“You owe me so bad…” Kurt mutters as they finally shuffle through the automatic doors and stop to catch a breath. She slides sloppily down from his back and he grabs her arm to make sure she doesn’t topple right to the floor.

Rachel makes a show of pushing her soaking wet hair out of her face, and then flicking her hands through her raincoat to shake some of the water off. “I would do the same for you and never ask anything in return.”

Kurt just laughs and offers his arm to her, and she clings harder than she strictly had to, he’s sure. They limp (well, she limps) their way to the front desk of the Emergency room.

“Hello, I’m pretty sure I broke my ankle.”

“She twisted her ankle,” he says, before Rachel can start off on a tale of injury, limb losses and missed Broadway careers.

She ignores him and continues on her spiel.

Kurt leans against the counter and watches the waiting room around him with a scowl. It’s such a cliché thought but he can’t help it: he hates hospitals. He hates the way they look, and the way they smell. He hates that his mom died in one, and that his father almost died in one. And now he hates that whenever he steps anywhere even close to some kind of medical facility he can’t help thinking of Blaine. Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. He wishes he could just forget everything about that summer. He wishes he had never gone to the park that day; he wishes he had never decided to go speak with the cute kid’s babysitter; he wishes he hadn’t stayed after he was told he wasn’t the babysitter; he wishes he hadn’t gotten he job at the ice-cream shop; he wishes he wouldn’t have gone with his dad to the appointment; he wishes he hadn’t said yes to a listening friend; he wishes he hadn’t decided to see where his silly attraction to Blaine could take him; he wishes he hadn’t fallen in love.

He wishes he hadn’t thought Blaine cared for him too.

He hates that, even months after the last time they saw each other, the mere thought of it is getting him to hallucinate and put that depressingly beautiful face on some random guy’s body some fifty feet away from Kurt, and miles away from Ohio where the real Blaine is, probably in an apartment Kurt wishes he didn’t remember as well as he does, with a girl Kurt wishes he didn’t miss as much as he does.

Only, imaginary Blaine moves exactly like the real Blaine used to. Imaginary Blaine halts and gasps exactly like the real Blaine used to. He stares and frowns at Kurt exactly like he used to.

They look at each other from across the room. They’re so far away that it’s impossible for Kurt to catch the sound of his voice, but when Blaine’s lips move he knows they’re forming his name.

Kurt hesitates for a moment. He almost steps forward, toward him. But then, he’s hurrying his way outside. Back in the pouring rain.

If it means Blaine’s not looking at him anymore, he would take rain, snow and hail.

He stops and leans against the wall, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It shouldn’t be like this. It’s been _months_. He doesn’t miss him anymore. He doesn’t feel like his heart’s been ripped open when the smell of tomato sauce or meatballs hits him anymore. He doesn’t flinch every time he sees a little girl with soft, brown hair, afraid that it might be Emmy, afraid he might be there anymore. He doesn’t itch to pick up his phone and take back all of the words he said; lie and say they were lies, so they could go back to that frustrating friendship that was never enough, but better than nothing.

It shouldn’t be like this anymore. But it is. And the fact that he didn’t even know they were in the same city again, just hurts more.

His phone goes off with a new text and he’s ready to tell Rachel to go fuck herself, but it’s another number altogether. He knows it, even though he deleted the contact. It’s closely followed by another text.

**I was in love with you, too.**

**Am.**

**Come back inside, please. You’ll get sick. I’m not in the waiting room anymore, I promise. You don’t have to see me, but just get out of the rain.**

Kurt freezes for a moment before he just pushes himself off the wall and goes home. Of course he gets sick.

-x-

_What are you doing here?_

It’s been a week. Kurt hopes that Blaine will be asleep and miss the text.

**I got back into the residency program I told you about. For pediatrics.**

_What about Emmy?_

**She’s sleeping next door.**

Kurt doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything.

**Your hair is so different. I like it.**

He wants to type back – the pink reminded me of you. Any other color made me wonder if Emmy would want to come grab it as well, if you’d like it. So bleaching was me trying to erase you. Didn’t work, but I had to keep it. Instead he writes:

_Do you really want to talk about my hairstyle?_

**I guess not. I don’t even know what I wanna talk about. Just that I do.**

_You’re in love with me. We can start with that one._

Kurt’s hand shakes as he waits for the answer. Instead his phone rings. He glances at Rachel’s side of the loft. It’s not so much worry for her – she’s kept him up with her own annoying voice plenty of times for this to be rightfully his – but worry that she might overhear him. He grabs his comforter and climbs outside the window. He picks up just before it goes to voicemail.

“Okay, talk,” he says.

Blaine chuckles, and Kurt has no idea what to make of that. When he does speak, though, his voice isn’t anywhere near light or carefree. “How are you, Kurt?”

“Fine.”

“Do you want to meet somewhere and talk?” Blaine sighs.

“At three am on a Thursday night? Don’t you have a kid to take care of? And a job?”

“I’m living with my best friend. And tomorrow’s my day off.”

“Are you that hopeful that it’s going to be less awkward in person?” Kurt sneers.

Blaine chuckles again and Kurt feels like snapping at him. “I don’t know Kurt. I really don’t know what to do here.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t do anything,” Kurt shrugs. “Last time we winged it, it didn’t end very well.”

“I made a mistake.”

“Just one?”

“I made the same mistake a lot of times.”

“Go to sleep, Blaine.”

“ _Kurt_.”

He hangs up.

He feels like throwing his cell phone away, or banging his head against the wall, or calling Blaine to ask him where his house is so he can show up and kiss him senseless and pretend like maybe they just stopped talking for a day.

Instead he climbs back inside the loft and crawls into bed. To his surprise, the bed shifts after barely a minute and he turns around to find Rachel climbing on it.

“Was that him?”

She doesn’t know him by name. No one does. Even throughout all of the months they were hanging out, Kurt never told anyone who he was meeting, and Blaine lived far enough into the other side of town, that none of his friends ever crossed paths with them.

But they knew there was someone. It was hard not to. They noticed when he started laughing more. When he started smiling instead of just smirking. When the colors came back to his wardrobe, slowly but boldly.

The dots weren’t hard to connect because most times they would invite him to do something he would reply he had plans. Of course, they all assumed that he was meeting a boyfriend and not just a _friend_. And of course he never bothered to put the record straight – mostly because they never really asked him to his face, but also because it felt nice pretending that it wasn’t just some weird friendship where the tension was always there and painstakingly ignored.

So they also connected all the dots when everything he had gained for those few months went crashing full force within a week. No one would ask mostly because it’s weird to ask someone if they broke up with their semi-secret boyfriend if they never asked if there really was a semi-secret boyfriend in the first place. ~~~~

He’d hoped everyone had forgotten by now. It’s been enough time. But apparently not.

“Yeah…” he shrugs. He’s not sure why she’s doing this, though. They’re not exactly friends, they never were. It just so happened that rent in New York is incredibly expensive and she was the only person he somewhat knew that was also here and at the time it seemed like his best option.

“What happened?”

“Nothing…” he tries to turn away from her, but she holds his shoulder gently in place.

“Kurt, please tell me,” she pleads. “I’m your friend and I’ve had my fair share of relationship drama. Maybe I can help.”

“There was never a relationship. I wanted him, he didn’t want me. It was over before it started. That’s it.”

“That’s it? That’s why you were the way you were when you came here? That’s why you were so desperate to leave Ohio that you came to New York months before your classes started?”

“Yes. That’s exactly it.”

She doesn’t believe him. No one would – he spent his first two months in New York, either working on a miraculous internship, or dancing in gay clubs proving to himself that the problem had always been Ohio and not himself. That even though Karofsky was so disgusted with his attraction to Kurt that he wanted to kill him, and that even though Blaine kissed him but acted like it was his worst mistake, that it didn’t mean Kurt wasn’t desirable in any way. His very first week in New York he lost his virginity and felt vindicated in the knowledge that the problem had never been himself or his body. And then he did it again and again and again, more vindication, exhilaration and the thrill of someone wanting him – of someone saying they wanted him, over and over again while their mouths were on his body, all over, feeling so damn good.

Until one morning it was like he was waking up from a trance, and it all stopped. Vindication was gone and he was left with a phone that never rang anymore.

What was it that those guys meant when they said they wanted him?

Rachel was there for all of the mornings he would come back, sated and cheerful. For a while she’d assume it was always the same guy, and he didn’t correct her. When she figured it out, he let her judgment roll off his back. When he figured it out, he wanted to punch her for not having stopped him. But what had she known? They weren’t really friends. He hadn’t let her.

Because clearly she wanted to, and still does.

“So what now? What’s been going on this last week? Why is he calling you?”

“He’s in New York,” Kurt tells her. “He moved here for a job, I guess.”

“Oh. He works?”

“He’s a doctor,” he sighs, giving in and sitting up because apparently this conversation is happening. He notices her eyebrows raising, the shock spreading over her features and for the first time he understands how Blaine must have felt every time someone he knew would see them together. “He was at the hospital the other day. That’s why I disappeared, I couldn’t…”

“And now he called you? After a week?”

“No, he texted me right after. I didn’t answer until today.”

“What did he say?”

“That he’s in love with me,” Kurt shrugs, as if it’s simple – as if pretending makes it so.

Rachel gasps.

“Very dramatic, I know.” Kurt rolls his eyes.

“Wait! So, all those months you were dating a doctor?! How old was he?”

“We weren’t dating. We were friends,” he corrects her, before adding. “And I fell in love with him.”

He pauses and proceeds to tell her everything.

It turns out she really doesn’t have any advice for him, but at least it feels good to talk about it. They don’t stop until it’s sunrise and they both decide to skip classes and just sleep in and watch some crappy movies. She goes out and buys him cheesecake. And they ignore it when, around dinnertime, his phone pings with a new text.

**I’m not trying to talk you into anything you don’t want. I just need you to know something. It was never about you. I was never embarrassed of you – your age or your clothes or anything, it all stopped meaning anything to me the moment I started to get to know you. It looked like that, but really I was just trying to keep myself from falling for you. I was grieving and scared. My life had been turned upside down, and I don’t think I was ready to handle being in love, let alone with someone like you. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or that I made you feel like your feelings weren’t returned. I just got way in over my head and lost grip. I’m sorry.**

It takes Kurt a day to answer.

_And you’re not in over your head anymore?_

**I’m a single dad, I’m always going to be way in over my head, but I’m not trying to hide it anymore.**

Kurt stares at his phone, willing it to give him a better answer. Willing it to tell him what to do, how to fix all of this. A new text comes but it’s the farthest thing from what he needed.

**And to set the record straight: I never knew you felt that way for me. I really didn’t. I knew you found me attractive on some level, sure, but I never thought you felt that deeply for me or that you wanted more than sex, or I would’ve at least talked to you about it.**

He groans and punches the call button.

“I just need to know what’s happening. Do you want to be with me now? Do you want to be friends? Do you just not want me to hate you or whatever?”

“I want whatever you want,” the reply comes after a long pause, in a soft, careful voice.

“ _No_. I asked what _you_ want. Don’t deflect. I need to know exactly where _you_ stand.”

Blaine sighs and clears his throat a couple of times before he finally speaks. “I want a second chance at… at kissing you goodnight. And hello, and all those kisses that you knew I wanted to give you…” Blaine tells him, slowly. “But mostly, I want a second chance at doing it the right way – without burying anything, or denying anything.”

Kurt closes his eyes and breathes.

“Do you really want me….? Like that?”

“Of course I want you.” Blaine says it like it pains him that Kurt has to ask, and all the reasons that made Kurt fall so steadfastly in love clamor for attention.

Hearing those words leaves him breathless and shaky.

“Can I just…” he stops and clears his throat. “I’m sorry, I just need a little time to… I don’t know. Get used to the idea, I think.”

“Okay.” Blaine answers at once.

“I’ll… I’ll talk to you soon.”

He hangs up without bothering to listen to anything else. And then he sits on his couch for an hour. Unmoving.

Rachel comes and Rachel goes, carefully letting him know that should he need anything all he has to do is call and she’ll return home.

And then he does find himself calling – just not any of them.

“Hey dad.”

“Hey bud… how are you?”

“I’m great. Completely and utterly recovered from that cold, so you can stop worrying and sending me brands of cold medicine to try.”

Burt chuckles. “That’s good to know.”

“Although, now I’ll never know which one actually did the trick,” Kurt says, half teasing. “What about you?”

“Good, good.”

Kurt bites his lip and takes a deep breath before he says, “Speaking of good health. You won’t believe who I ran into the other day?”

“Who?”

“Doctor Anderson!”

“What? Really? How is he? I’m still angry at him for leaving me to the dinosaurs again… But I’m glad he’s getting to pursue what he wants.”

“I think he’s good. He seemed good. We didn’t talk for a long time, because he was busy, but I think I’m going to go invite him for some coffee.”

“You should!” Burt laughs, “It’s always smart to have doctor friends.”

Kurt chuckles. “He’s in pediatrics… I hardly think that’ll be useful any time soon.”

“He’ll have friends of his own in other areas. You know how it goes, it’s all about networking, kid.”

“True…” he smiles.

“So, any other news?”

“Hum. Actually… huh, still on the Doctor Anderson topic… what if…” he cringes, bites his tongue and chews on his cheek. “What if I didn’t ask him for coffee as just friends?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other side.

“Like on a date?” his dad finally says.

“Yeah…” Kurt breathes.

“Well, I certainly understand the appeal, Kurt. Heck, he’s everything I ever envisioned for you.” He chuckles and then sighs deeply. “Except for the few extra years and the part where he has a kid. I’m not…”

“I know, but-”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t ask him. I’m just saying you should think about it carefully, because dating a single parent – it’s not easy, and it does come with responsibility. And-”

“I know all of that, dad. I know.” He doesn’t get to say I’ve dated him before, even if we didn’t call it dating, and I think I know what I’m getting into.

“Okay. If you know,” Burt sighs like he still doesn’t agree. “Kurt, I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I think if you do, and things work out, I’ll be really happy for you. But just… try and keep it in the grown up world. The kid’s been through enough already, you know?”

“Of course.”

-x-

_Clean slate. We start from the start. We get coffee. We get dinner. We go to the movies. You get a babysitter. No entire afternoons at your house. No cooking dinner for me and your daughter. No hanging out with your daughter. No staying at your house till four am (no listening to you sing lullabies to her before you come back to me)._

Apparently their go-to response these days is calling, but this time Kurt can feel himself smiling a little as he answers, hope ignite somewhere in the confines of his (not as well as he thought) kept heart.

“Hey.”

“Hey…” Blaine breathes. Kurt can hear the sound of a door closing and the loud hustle of what Kurt imagines is a hospital fading. “Um, so I accept those terms,” he says with a shy chuckle.

“Good,” Kurt nods.

“Yeah…”

“Um, so I was-”

“My shift ends in- sorry, go.”

“No, you go. I wasn’t gonna say anything, really.”

“I was just going to ask if you’re free later today. Maybe for dinner? So I have time to go home and change…”

“What about Emmy?”

“Like you said – babysitter.” Blaine sounded like he was smiling. “Don’t worry, even if I can’t get one, I’m pretty sure Wes is free tonight. I’ll make it work.”

“Oh… okay…”

“So, where do-”

“What time do you get off?” Kurt interrupts without apology.

“Um, an hour?”

“Do you want to come over to my place?”

“Oh!” Blaine is quiet for a moment. “What happened to starting from the start?”

Kurt scours the ceiling for an answer. “I don’t know. I don’t care. Come over.”

“I… okay. Um, okay. Sure.”

-x-

Kurt is sitting on the couch staring at the wall in front of him, and he’s been doing that for exactly two hours. He refused to change out of his casual clothes (the ones he chose when his day wasn’t going to be anything more than running a few errands for Isabelle), because if he did that it would be admitting to a whole bunch of things he can’t be sure he wants to admit to until he has Blaine’s face right in front of his. Until he can be sure he wants it more than he fears it.

His leg shakes as he waits. Inevitably someone knocks, and the leg stops. Kurt counts to three and holds his breath before he moves to go open the door. He’s still a little taken aback when he slides it open to reveal Blaine.

He wants it _and_ he fears it. He wishes he’d changed into full body armor.

Blaine is holding a bouquet of red roses, pretty and a little too big. “Hi.”

Kurt smiles feebly and instead of stepping aside to let Blaine inside he steps outside and slides the door almost closed.

Blaine frowns slightly. “I don’t get to come in?”

Kurt takes a deep breath. “Yes. But first there’s something I need you to do, but it has to stay out here, because I don’t trust us enough to know when to stop in there.”

Blaine swallows a little thickly as he nods. “Okay…”

“So, kiss me.”

Blaine looks slightly startled at the request but he breathes and offers a smile before nodding. He looks around himself, flowers awkwardly held out as he looks for a place to put them on. He gives up and lays them carefully on the floor, propped up against the wall. When he stands up he looks almost younger than Kurt. He reminds him of a teenager psyching himself up for a first ever kiss, and it does make Kurt feel a lot better. It makes him smile as Blaine clumsily wipes his hands on his jeans before he steps forward, carefully, nervously, sighing with a nervous smile and he raises his hands towards Kurt. He doesn’t touch at once, his hands hover slightly over Kurt’s skin and he looks at Kurt for permission. Kurt almost laughs as he nods, and at once, gentle hands cradle his cheeks firmly and pull him closer until their eyes have slipped closed and Blaine’s breath on his lips is replaced by solid, soft warmth.

Kurt breathes with relief, and lets himself dissolve into it.

When Blaine breaks the kiss, Kurt chases it and Blaine lets him, coming back to him at once, and true to Kurt’s worries, it doesn’t stop until the sound of some door slamming somewhere in the building snaps them back to reality.

They pull back with a wet smack that, apparently, Blaine finds funny, because he just ducks his head, looking away and chuckling.

Kurt just stays rooted to his spot, hands still firmly grasping Blaine’s hips, and watches him. Pink cheeked and self conscious, at some point he does look up, laughter fading and leaving only a trace of a smile behind.

“What?” he murmurs when he finds Kurt staring.

“I’m waiting…” Kurt squints slightly.

Blaine frowns but doesn’t look away from Kurt’s gaze. “For what?”

“For you to freak out.”

Blaine’s shoulders drop a little and he presses his lips into a thin line. He looks sad and Kurt almost regrets saying it.

“Aren’t you?... Freaking out?”

Shaking his head, Blaine steps a little closer and kisses Kurt’s cheek. “Not like that.”

“How then?”

“I’m freaking out over the possibility that we will fuck this up again, and that will be it. My last chance with you. But I’m not freaking out over wanting you.” He kisses his cheek again, and his other cheek, and his forehead and his nose, and his jaw, every part of his jaw and his lips, and Kurt could cry with relief and berate himself for being so easily convinced at the same time.

“Okay,” Kurt whispers, as Blaine’s face is buried in his neck. “You can come in now.”

Blaine presses him against the door, crowds Kurt’s body with his. It feels magnificent.

“But the kisses stay out here.”

He’s gone fast and without protest. “Whatever you want,” he says, eyes earnest and face red. Kurt almost wants him to protest.

He pulls the door open and gestures for Blaine to go inside. He doesn’t follow at once, taking just a moment to take a deep breath and prepare himself to have Blaine invade yet another part of his life. He remembers the flowers last minute, and picks them up, holding them close to his nose. He inhales their perfume deeply and presses his back against the door, sliding it closed.

“If you really wanted me this much, why didn’t you come find me before? Clearly, you kept my number.”

Blaine turns around where he’d been surveying the space. He opens and closes his mouth several times. “Well, it took me a bit to get my head out of my ass and realize that falling for you wasn’t a bad thing, at all. And then I told myself you wouldn’t want me to. I thought I screwed up too bad, and that you’d be better off with someone smarter and braver than me,” he smiles feebly. “And then I saw you and I realized that even if you hated me and never wanted to see me again, I still didn’t have the right to take that choice away from you. That you deserved to know the full scope of things,” he shrugs, but it’s anything but casual. “Both times I did what I thought was the right thing by you… but, then again, maybe both times I was just doing the selfish thing – not chasing you because it was easier for me to just go back to what I had before, and then chasing you even if it would’ve been better for you that I let you go because I couldn’t handle the thought of not trying.”

Kurt eyes him for a moment, before he holds his flowers a little tighter. “You’re not selfish, Blaine. You’re a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them.”

Blaine smile appears slowly.

“And I guess I wasn’t exactly forthright with my emotions either, and I kind of also owe you some apology for having assumed you read minds or whatever… I never told you I wanted more than I did on the day we met, and maybe I shouldn’t have blamed you for not having guessed it,” he bites his lip and feels his cheeks go warmer. “Even if I’m the least subtle person alive when it comes to this sort of thing and I’m pretty sure the whole world knew how I felt, so I kind of assumed you did too.”

Blaine steps a little closer. “The kissing stays out there, right?” he chuckles, and Kurt does too.

“I’m sorry. I just… I need to make sure this doesn’t… derail.”

“I know,” Blaine nods. “I want that, too.”

They stand there for a moment, just kind of looking at each other. Not really knowing what to say or how to say what was needed.

“So.” Kurt finally breaks the silence. “A wise person once told me that a situation is only as awkward as you allow it to be.”

“That was actually you who said it.” Blaine tilts his head with a fond smile.

“I know,” Kurt attempts a smirk. “We should make dinner. The roommate will be back around eleven and you should be gone by then, because I don’t want her meeting you and getting opinions and thinking she’s allowed to voice them.”

Blaine frowns slightly but he keeps smiling and then shrugs. “Whatever you wanna do.”

“I want to make you meatballs, because I like the poetic irony of it, but there’s only soy… meatballs? Soyballs? Something like that. The roommate is vegan.”

“Fine by me,” Blaine shrugs with a smile, and it’s clear that there’s laughter just ready to bubble out of him. It sets Kurt a little more at ease.

They still cook mostly in silence, though. Kurt gives him tasks and instructions and Blaine follows them, and they both ignore the tension between them. Once it’s ready, Kurt piles food onto two plates and takes them over to the couch.

He wordlessly dares Blaine to comment on it, as he sits down comfortably, feet tucked under himself, and watches Blaine try to sit primly and set his plate perfectly on his knees. Blaine looks more than aware of that.

“Welcome to student housing…” Kurt tells him, in a low teasing voice. “No dining table… We’re buying one piece every month - we haven’t gotten around to the dining room set just yet.”

Blaine laughs and rolls his eyes. “I’ve been a college student Kurt. I know what it’s like,” he gives up and slides all the way to the floor, and puts his plate on the coffee table, “I just don’t want to soil your gorgeous couch with the insane amount of sauce you put here.”

“Are you insulting my cooking?”

“I haven’t even tried it, yet. Of course not.” He forks a piece of “soyball” and blows on it for a while. Kurt watches him chew and swallow it slowly, with a slight frown, and put his fork down, discreetly and just barely pushing his plate an inch away. “Um…”

“Oh, don’t even try it. I’m a good cook,” Kurt rolls his eyes and shoves a big piece inside his mouth. It’s not even the temperature that has him spitting it out. “Holy shit, that’s fucking disgusting.”

Blaine bursts out laughing and pushes his plate further away from himself. “This is exactly why you leave the cooking to the adults,” he grins as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. “We might as well go full kid experience and order us some pizza.”

Kurt freezes for a second and then doesn’t think. He practically throws his plate on the coffee table, sliding to the floor and landing on his knees right next to Blaine before he kisses him hard. He pulls back just as suddenly and studies Blaine for a reaction. This time, when he realizes what happens, Blaine doesn’t look sad. Instead, he smiles, and leans back in to brush their noses and lips together before he pulls back.

“Your teenage rebellion is cute, Kurt, but kissing inside is against the rules.”

Two jokes in a row about Kurt’s age and Blaine looks calm.

“You’re really not going to freak out…?”

Blaine takes his hand and kisses his knuckles. “I told you, it was never about that,” he kisses the center of his palm. “Now, excuse me, as the true and certified adult takes care of the food.”

-x-

_You should take me out to dinner this Saturday… just saying._

**I actually can’t. It’s Emmy’s birthday. I kind of want to invite you, but it’s only been two** **weeks and your rules said no Emmy…**

_It’s her birthday huh? I guess I can make an appearance as her friend and not as her dad’s tentative boyfriend._

**Tentative boyfriend? That’s what we’re calling it?**

_You don’t like it?_

**I can live with it for now. Let me know when the promotion comes. Anyhow, you really want to come?**

_I just don’t want to carelessly become a big part of her world before I know what to make of this thing between us, Blaine. But a birthday party where she’ll hardly pay any attention to me? I can do that._

**Okay!**

-x-

Kurt loosens his grip on the wrapped package before he crumples it with his nerves. He stops for a minute at the entrance of the building (it’s a nice enough building, but not particularly fancy) to take a deep breath. He’s kind of craving a cigarette right now, but that very morning he stopped himself from buying a new pack. He’s turning over a new leaf, and while he might not be ready to commit himself to it with words, he still knows, deep within, that he’s getting ready to become a big part of that little girl’s life, and he wants to be the best version of himself she can look up to.

He thrums his fingers against the wrapped box as the elevator goes up, and tries not to look too much in the mirror and second guess his wardrobe choices. He knows kids couldn’t care less, but Blaine’s best friend will be there, and maybe even some other parents ( _Blaine’s parents?_ ), and that gets his heart a little far up his throat. He refused to put on any kind of costume that wasn’t _him_ , and now as he eyes his black skintight t-shirt, and his leather jacket, and his (half price on e-bay) designer black jeans with safety pins all over, and the leather cuffs on his wrists, and the hot pink boots, and the facial piercings, and the bleached hair, and the tattoo peaking out of his collar…

He kind of regrets his earlier decisions, and wonders how much time he has to shirk all of the accessories and find new shoes.

The elevator dings as it reaches the fifth floor.

He can hear it already. There are balloons glued to the door on his left, and voices, excited high pitched squeals and kids’ music filtering out of it. He rings the doorbell, almost expecting the noise to go completely unnoticed beneath all of the commotion, but it’s almost instantaneously flung open.

A rather handsome Asian man, with tan skin and black hair, in a business suit and a pink party hat, greets him while struggling to keep a tray full of Jell-O cups balanced on one hand, and holding a Sunny Delight bottle with the other. The man’s smile falters for just one second before it brightens again.

“Oh, you must be Kurt!” He steps aside just enough that Kurt can come in and close the door. “I’m sorry I can’t greet you properly, but my hands are quite busy, as you can see. I’m Wes, I’m Blaine’s… huh, best friend and roommate, and it’s very nice to finally put a face to the name!”

Kurt is kind of lost for words. “You know who I am?” he mumbles before he can stop himself.

“Of course he knows who you are,” a voice says behind him, and Kurt barely has time to turn around before there are firm, though quick lips on his cheek, and Blaine’s right there, also wearing a pink party hat that sort of matches a beautiful and colorful shirt. “Who do you think put up with all my pining?”

Kurt looks between the two of them, still not sure what to say. Wes looks highly amused. “Why don’t you come in?”

“The birthday gremlin is over in the living room,” Blaine puts his hand at the small of Kurt’s back and steers his gently down the hallway towards the loudest source of sound. “Surrounded by too many gremlins.”

Kurt was probably supposed to laugh at Blaine’s exasperated look, but he just feels the blood rushing to his face. They reach the living room, and while anyone else’s attention would have gone to the insane amount of children hopping around (dancing?) in the middle of the room, Kurt zeroes in on the adults sitting primly on the couches, sipping drinks and holding small, sensible doses of food on pink, plastic plates.

It probably doesn’t help that their eyes zero in on him as well, and they widen, and they take him in from head to toe and then back up again with the intensity of a scanner. Every single pair of eyes that he meets he gets more and more anxious that the next will be over fifty and he’ll know for sure he’s met Blaine’s parents, but before it happens there’s a high pitched squeal of his name.

“Kurt!”

He turns to look and find a beaming, slightly taller than he remembered Emmy zigzagging through all other kids towards him. He immediately smiles and drops to one knee, and then she halts, her eyes wide and horrified.

“What happened to your hair?” she gasps.

He freezes for a moment – last time he checked it, two minutes ago, it was fine. And then he realizes. “Oh! I changed it.”

She looks utterly betrayed, and outright disgusted. “But it’s _white_.”

“Well, not exactly whi-”

“You look like grandpa,” she frowns, pointing behind her to a corner Kurt doesn’t dare to look at. “You look boring.”

He’s torn between laughing or running straight out of there. “Look who suddenly became talkative.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, before she snatches the pink birthday hat off her own head and practically shoves it in his face. “Cover it.”

He bites his laughter as he nods and accepts it. “Here, I brought you something.”

She takes the box and, without another word, speeds off in some other direction, leaving Kurt kneeling low and looking at an empty space.

“Emmy!” Kurt hears Blaine’s voice right behind him and it almost startles him. “Please say thank you!”

“Thank you!” Emmy calls from the other side of the room, not sounding entirely genuine.

Kurt keeps his eyes off anything in particular, standing back up as he puts the hat on. Blaine is standing next to him with a big grin on his face, and when he catches Kurt’s eyes he cringes sympathetically.

“She’s still very passionate about colors, sorry.”

Kurt affects a childish voice and tone, “ _Cover it_!”

Blaine chuckles and reaches over to squeeze his elbow, before he turns around to leave the room and Kurt decides to just follow him like a lost puppy – anything to get out of that room. Geez, one would think that New York people would be less likely to stare.

They go into the kitchen, which Kurt has absolutely no idea how it normally would look, because it’s covered in food and drinks and desserts.

There’s no one else inside, thankfully, and Blaine goes straight to a half decorated birthday cake. He starts working on it, but glances at Kurt several times – each time his smile grows a little less cheeky and a little more genuine.

“Thanks for coming,” he says softly. “It means a lot. To her,” he twists his nose, and ducks his head, keeps his eyes on the cake – it’s adorable. “To me.”

Kurt checks over his shoulder before he pushes the door almost closed and walks over to Blaine. He kisses him slowly and then pulls back.

“I was kind of regretting it for a minute there,” Kurt huffs, trying to laugh and failing for the most part. “That was a lot of judging.”

Blaine glances towards the living room – as if they could see through the ajar door. He turns to Kurt and shakes his head, leaning back in for another short, soft kiss. “Fuck them.”

Kurt doesn’t know how to react. It’s the first time Blaine’s ever cursed like this in front him and it’s hot; it’s the first time Blaine’s ever outright defended him and it’s hot. “I’d really rather not,” he whispers, pulling back and leaning on the table but keeping his eyes on Blaine’s, who has all but forgotten his work spelling out _Happy Birthday Emmy_ in chocolate. “I kind of have my eyes set on someone else.”

Blaine goes red in the face, but dissolves into laughter.

“At some point…” Kurt adds with a sheepish shrug.

Blaine nods as he continues laughing, and leans a little into Kurt, knocking their hips playfully together. He stretches his neck to peck Kurt’s cheek and it’s right at the moment – perhaps just a little after, as he’s already turning back to the cake – that the kitchen door opens and a woman with short red hair (the kind of red that comes from a bottle) and enough wrinkles on her face for Kurt to know who she is comes in. She’s dressed in an impeccable white blouse, and a light blue pencil skirt, with pearls around her neck and wrist.

She stops, and the man coming after her almost crashes – he’s barely taller than her, his hair is white but there, and his face is old but strikingly handsome. Blaine looks like his father.

The two pairs take each other in, and then Blaine’s mother takes a deep breath and opens her mouth.

“Blaine, what are you do-”

Wes barges in, squeezing between Blaine’s parents, voice loud and maybe even a little desperate. “Oh, Kurt, I didn’t even take your coat or offer you a tour of the house, where are my manners? Honestly! Come with me, so I can redeem myself,” he grabs Kurt’s wrist as soon as he can reach it and then just tugs him hard and relentless. Kurt practically barrels through Blaine’s parents on his way out (Blaine’s mother makes a point of stepping aside as far as she can). They’re out before anyone really registers what happened, but Kurt can still catch her voice, like she wasn’t even interrupted in the rudest fashion possible.

“Blaine, what are you doing with that boy?”

Wes doesn’t stop pulling him until they’re at the opposite end of the hallway, and then opens a door, pulls him inside and slams it closed.

“God, I’m shaking!” he gasps, holding out his hands as proof. “I have never been so rude to anyone. Ever! Anyone! Let alone Blaine’s parents. I need to take some Xanax.”

Kurt has no idea what to say to that, so he just keeps his silence and stares at Wes, who’s taking a few deep breaths before one that seems even deeper than the previous ones and carries some finality to it. He punctuates it by putting his hands on his hips and going back to the sort of posture that one would associate with a man in a business suit.

“I also kind of hate Blaine’s parents. So that also felt kind of good.”

Kurt frowns. “Rock on…?” he offers.

“Listen, don’t bother caring about all the nasty, judgmental things they’re probably spewing off about you as we speak. It’s just how they are… they’re not bad people, really, but-”

“But you hate them…”

“I don’t _hate_ them.” Wes holds out his hand and cringes. “I… just… am not very fond of them.”

Kurt can’t help smiling. “Me neither,” he nods. “I heard the stories.”

Wes returns his smile. “So you know, really, in their minds they’re looking out for their son and their granddaughter. It just doesn’t occur to them that Blaine’s happiness might not come in the exact same package they imagined it would.”

Kurt wants to disagree, but this is a strange conversation to have with a near perfect stranger, and he finds himself a little tongue-tied. He eyes the door for a moment, imagining the conversation that must be happening in the kitchen right now. He sighs and shakes his head before he sits down. _Fuck them_ , Blaine had said. He wonders if he maintains it towards his own parents.

Wes, having apparently finished his attempt at damage control, is now awkwardly standing in the room and looking around him. “Oh!” he gasps, “May I take your coat?”

Kurt snorts – not particularly dignified, but he can’t help it. “Sure,” he shrugs it off and hands it over. “Are you gonna offer me a tour, as well?”

Wes smiles – not at all sardonic. “Sure,” he gestures around him. “My bedroom.”

“Very… neat.”

“Thank you.” It sounds genuinely pleased.

Wes opens the door slowly, as if he’s expecting something scary to be on the other side of the door. Points Kurt to the next door, which is wide open with a handful of kids inside, quietly playing with dolls. The small bedroom is painted in Technicolor glory, and there are hand prints (some small, some big) in rainbows of colors.

“Emmy’s.” Kurt smiles.

“You’re very perceptive.”

And then Wes reaches over for another door and opens it. The bed is covered in little kid’s coats and bags, but Kurt can still see the dark blue comforter, and the light blue pillows. The furniture is rich mahogany, and the shades are white and immaculate, and there are a few neatly arranged frames on the walls. Kurt is definitely dating an older man. The thought makes him chuckle.

“I’m sure, in due time, you’ll get best acquainted with this room,” Wes smirks before he closes the door again. And then, as if he had made no innuendo, turns back where they came from – points at a door opposite Blaine’s “Bathroom,” and then another door a little further up ahead. “Second bathroom. And that’s about it, as far as a tour goes. You’ve seen the rest already.”

“Thanks.”

Wes nods. “So, um, I don’t know what I could suggest you to do now that would keep you away from the piranhas, unless you want to raid Blaine’s closet for more socially accepted clothes and pretend you’re someone else entirely – but I’m pretty sure Blaine’s clothes won’t fit you, and you’ll just end up looking like a pervert wearing clothes two sizes too small. Do you have any ideas?” Blaine’s best friend is definitely someone who does not bother hiding his thoughts, but there’s something about him that leaves Kurt feeling comfortable instead of judged.

Kurt wonders what he could possibly do that didn’t involve a bunch of pretentious jackasses (or at least that’s what he’s labeling them as) staring at him as if he personally offended them. “I guess, face the stares.”

Wes nods. “Yes. I think it’s either that, or go back in the kitchen and listen to what I’m sure is an extremely awkward conversation for you to hear,” Wes smiles. “ _Or_ you could just hide in Blaine’s bedroom and wait till it’s all over…?”

Kurt can’t help chuckling. He shakes his head. “I can deal with kids and ignore the stares just fine.”

“I think you might actually be the only person in this house to prefer the company of the gremlins, so I definitely encourage you to surround yourself with them,” Wes nods back to him, in polite approval of his choice. “They seem to enjoy when you pick them up and spin them around, or hold them upside down,” he says it likes he’s stating scientific data.

“They usually do.” Kurt nods, and sighs with resignation, walking back to the living room, and immersing himself in kids without sparing a single glance at the adults, perched on couches and probably grimacing every single time he interacts with their kid.

Emmy seems fairly recovered from the white hair shock, and lets him twist her around over and over again – her giggles are the loudest he’s ever heard them, and she does seem happier. Not necessarily more talkative (that too, a little bit, but it’s still not what you expect of a kid that age), but a lot less subdued, and a lot more eager to interact instead of just watch. Blaine had told him he’d gotten her a kids’ therapist, just to be sure there wasn’t anything to worry about, but he hadn’t been expecting the difference to be so visible.

At some point he settles into entertaining her and a couple more kids that seem to be her closest friends, and actually does manage to forget everyone else around them. He’s been at it for an hour (has recently been enlisted to paint nails and apply copious amounts of makeup on anyone who sits in line, while Emmy sits next to him acting as a sort of consultant) when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and a kiss to his cheek.

Blaine crouches down next to him with a tired smile. “You don’t actually have to be the babysitter…”

Kurt’s heart is speeding out of his chest and he stops himself from checking if anyone over the age of four was looking. Fuck them. “I’m having fun.”

Blaine grins and then maneuvers himself to sit down next to him. “Okay guys, I can do a mean eye shadow.”

“It’s true.” Emmy confirms. Immediately kids start clamoring towards Blaine, who calmly directs them into an orderly line, which includes boys, and this time Kurt can’t help himself but to check for parents’ reactions. Not all parents seem to be present, but he does catch a mother frowning a little too hard at her son (or so he assumes). Kurt makes sure to follow every direction the boy gives and tell him he looks beyond awesome.

Kurt somehow does manage to relax and to just give into the incredible sensation that is spending quality time with Blaine, Emmy and a bunch of random kids that have zero preconceptions about him. He loves it every time that Blaine, who has come to sport an impressive shade of hot pink lipstick, laughs and leans into him. He even manages doing so despite becoming increasingly aware of the fact that he hasn’t seen Blaine’s parents again.

The kids start trickling out around 6pm, all grumpy at the prospect of leaving the funnest party they’ve ever attended. And Blaine stays with the last few kids while Kurt wanders into the kitchen where Wes is scraping plates of food into the trash, with his tie thrown back over his shoulder and his sleeves rolled up.

“Can I help?”

Wes looks up and smiles. “I don’t know, _can_ you?”

Kurt can’t quite react to that.

Wes waves his hand dismissively with a small laugh. “I’m sorry, I always forget not everyone knows how fond I am of that joke. Blaine indulges me too much, I’ve become spoiled.”

With a smirk he can’t quite remember conjuring, Kurt chuckles and gestures towards the sink and the collection of dirty bowls and dessert plates next to it. “ _May_ I help?”

“Yes, you may.” Wes grins.

“So, do you always wear business suits to parties?” Kurt asks, getting elbows deep in dishwashing water.

“Only when I come directly from the office to the party,” Wes says casually, not offended by Kurt’s slightly abrasive tone. But then adds, “I would ask about you, but I feel like I know the answer.”

Kurt’s not sure if he was just made fun of or criticized, and looks over his shoulder to study the other man. Wes chuckles and Kurt realizes he was just harmlessly teasing.

Kurt definitely likes Wes. Lame jokes aside.

“Oh, Kurt!” Blaine gasps as he comes in, arms full of plastic plates and cups, the party hat gone, his pretty polo replaced with a faded t-shirt that says Dalton on the chest, and his feet clad in thick, comfy looking socks. “Please don’t do that! You don’t have to do that!”

Kurt shrugs. “It’s fine, Blaine,” he mutters with a quick smile. Blaine opens his mouth to protest some more and Kurt flicks some water at him.

He deflates with a tired sigh. “If you insist.”

Kurt doesn’t want to voice his ulterior motive for helping – it’s obvious, though, and Blaine shouldn’t be pushing for it, because he should really be smart enough to figure it out on his own. “I do,” he nods quietly. He looks away as fast as the exchange feels finished, because he’s still too aware of Wes’ presence in the room.

He watches from the corner of his eye as Blaine dumps all of those things in a giant plastic bag that Wes holds out for him, and then, as soon as that’s done, Wes just grabs the bag and disappears, actually closing the door.

“I’m sorry about my parents.” Blaine says as soon as the door clicks shut.

“Oh.” So they’re actually going to talk about it. Okay. “Why did they leave?”

“I told them to.” Blaine tries to affect nonchalance, but fails.

“Because they didn’t like me?” Kurt quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t actually want to be the reason you fight with your parents, that’s stupid. I can handle a few rude stares. I don’t care.”

Blaine smiles and shakes his head. “You’re the tip of the iceberg, Kurt.”

“How so?”

“It’s not just that they don’t like you. It’s that they don’t like a lot of other things about my life, including a lot of my decisions regarding Emmy’s upbringing. Including that I moved us to New York,” he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “And while I can’t actually blame them for being upset that I took their granddaughter so far away from them, I just… can’t stand them second guessing every single decision that I make, when I know that most of the time they don’t actually care. They… they’re never going to be happy that I’m the one raising Emmy, no matter what I do.”

“Sooner or later, they’ll come around.”

“No…” Blaine shakes his head. “But it’s fine… We’ll make up in a month or whatever, and, really, we like each other much better when we’re living in different cities.”

Blaine sounds tired and not at all in the mood for this conversation, so Kurt doesn’t try to counter it anymore. “That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah.” Blaine nods. “To them, I’ll always be a fourteen year old coward, bruised and sobbing in a hospital bed,” he grabs a dishrag and starts wiping the few things Kurt’s washed. “And my brother will always be the one who failed at his passion. We’re both disappointments, and Emmy was their new shot at doing it right. They’re pissed my brother made it very clear they wouldn’t get her.”

Kurt doesn’t quite know what to say to all of that. “I really am the tip of the iceberg.”

Blaine smiles even though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know… we’re going to have to tell your dad.”

“I told him,” Kurt shrugs.

“You did?”

“Yeah. That I randomly met you in New York, and that I was gonna ask you out on a date. He was fine with it – told me to be careful about Emmy. But he was fine with it.”

When he turns to look at Blaine he finds him smiling fondly – the kind of fondness that verges on condescension. “Kurt… we’ll have to tell the truth…”

Kurt chews on his cheeks. His instinct is to fight it – they absolutely don’t. For all that anyone except the two of them, Emmy (and Rachel and probably Wes), needs to know they really did run into each other in New York and started from there. But lying to Burt Hummel is a tricky business, and lying about someone you’re in love with (even though you might be trying to keep the intensity low) is a slippery rope.

“We wait… a couple of months,” he glances at Blaine, who’s watching him and waiting for his answer. “Just to… If… we…”

“If we get there, we tell the truth.” Blaine finishes for him, his tone kind and steady, letting him know he doesn’t resent Kurt his hesitation. “Two months?”

Kurt takes a deep breath and nods. “Shit… I can’t believe I’m agreeing to it. He’s gonna be pissed.”

Blaine chuckles weakly, “I’ll start working on my speech… it has to be apologetic enough for him not to want to kill me, but also, not so apologetic that it conveys we did anything wrong, because we really didn’t..?”

Kurt bites his lip to keep from smiling, but also to keep from pointing out they need to make it to two months first.

He turns back to the dish-washing, but Blaine reaches to still his hands.

“Seriously, I don’t mind-”

“But I do.” Blaine rolls his eyes with a sheepish, whiny laugh. “I’m exhausted and I really wanna leave that for tomorrow, but I can’t if you keep at it.”

“Oh.” Kurt freezes for a moment and then slowly extricates his hands from the water and drops the sponge. “Okay. Do you… Should I leave?”

Blaine shakes his head and offers him a towel. Once Kurt’s hands are dry, he takes them and pulls him close for a kiss and then out of the kitchen, making a show of closing the door.

In the living room, Wes is sitting down on the smaller couch with Emmy snuggled up next to him and messing with the remote control. “The Gremlin and I were just about to watch a movie, if you wanna join us.”

Kurt doesn’t even have time to ponder before Blaine’s pulls him toward the bigger couch. “Yes, please.”

They sit side by side – nothing too conspicuous, but Blaine’s quick to take Kurt’s hand into his lap.

Kurt leans in to fake-whisper in Blaine’s ear.

“So, are all of Wes’ jokes terrible?”

Blaine soft smile vanishes and he affects the face of someone who’s reporting on a fatal accident and doesn’t bother keeping his voice low. “You have _no_ idea,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s like living with my grandfather – the jokes are that bad.”

Kurt grins, checks to see if Wes registered any of it – he’s silently chuckling. “So now, Emmy does have someone to tell her dad jokes. That’s why she’s been bonding with all the other kids so much better!”

Emmy turns at the mention of her name, squinting in confusion, but then seems to just let it go and turns back to the TV.

Blaine laughs, and moves a little closer, pulling Kurt’s hand to his lap and holding it tighter, and Kurt lets him because he doesn’t really want him to move away or let go.

Five minutes in, Blaine’s dropped his head onto Kurt’s shoulder. Ten minutes in, he’s sliding all the way down to lay his head in Kurt’s lap (while Kurt keeps his semi-panic attack in check). It’s not until Emmy looks and snickers that Kurt realizes that Blaine’s actually _fast asleep_ and probably has been since the first five minutes.

“He was up late, last night,” she excuses him with a smirk.

Wes glances and notices the cause for interest. “Yup. Six am.”

They turn back to the movie, and Kurt tries to resist burying his hands in Blaine’s hair and scratching easy patterns into his scalp (he doesn’t last long).

Something major, to which Kurt is paying zero attention, is happening on screen when Emmy twists all the way back towards Kurt. He stills his hand where it’s knuckle deep in dark curls, and holds her long gaze valiantly. She squints slightly.

“Are you daddy’s boyfriend?”

Kurt sends a panicked glance towards Wes, who is definitely awake, but resolutely keeping his eyes on the screen. Keeping the grimace on the inside, Kurt nods. “Yap.”

She nods back and resumes watching the climax of the movie, which Kurt just now realizes is not really a kid’s movie.

-x-

**Kurt, I’m right here. This is ridiculous. We’re not having this conversation through texts, with a door between us. It’s insane.**

_No. We’re doing it this way._

**Why? What’s so awful about it? Are you not ready for sex? It’s fine if you’re not, I won’t get mad! There’s nothing to be ashamed about that. I’ll understand! You don’t have to do this.**

_Yes. Yes, I do. Because if we have to be honest with my dad, then I have to be honest with you, and I can’t do it while looking at your face, because I know you’ll be sad and think it’s your fault or something, and I don’t want to look at you while I tell you._

**Tell me what?**

_I’m not a virgin anymore._

**Okay…? I’m not sad. We were never together until a month ago. Unless it happened less than a month ago, there’s no reason for me to be upset about it.**

_Let me finish. I’ll tell you when to talk._

_I’m the farthest thing from a virgin. After I moved to New York I kind of threw myself at everything that moved._

_I was angry at you for rejecting me. I was angry mostly because my whole life I felt unwanted – sometimes downright repulsive. I had never had anyone look at me like they wanted me. Not sexually or otherwise._

_When you came along it was different. At first you did reject me, like everyone else. But then you kissed me, and something inside of me lit up with hope. That you might want me. So I decided to see where it went (that I fell for you, you already know). And then it fell to shit, and you didn’t actually want me – or it felt like you didn’t. And I was back where I started._

_So, when I arrived to New York I needed to prove that you were wrong. Or whatever. And I basically threw myself around. I hate it. I thought I was doing what I wanted. I thought it was okay – because everyone does it. It’s just sex, it’s fine. But it wasn’t, because I just ended up confused and really not understanding what it is to be wanted._

_I don’t understand how everyone else does it. I’m glad it works for them, but I just felt empty._

_And I know that you really are sad and blaming yourself right now. I know. But you have to remember: you’re just the tip of the iceberg._

_Okay talk._

**I’m sorry.**

_Stop talking._

_I’m not telling you this to make you feel like shit, okay? I don’t want your apologies, because I don’t need them. I just want you to understand the context in which this thing is scary for me. It’s because I need to be sure that it matters this time. I need you to want me there afterwards. Even if I act like it doesn’t matter, it does._

_Okay talk._

**I do want you. All the time and for a lot more than just that. And it will matter. If it’s you, of course it does matter. But, I will also wait whatever time you need me to wait.**

**And I am sorry. As tip of the iceberg as I am, I’m still a part of it. So, I’m sorry for confusing you, and making you feel like that. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish for a time machine, actually.**

**Please come out.**

-x-

The door creeks with how slowly Kurt opens it. He steps out to find Blaine sitting right next to it, with his back against the wall. He looks up at Kurt with a sad smile.

“See, that’s why I didn’t want to look at you when I told you.”

Blaine shakes his head before he gets up, and immediately draws Kurt into his arms. “Kurt, I really am sorry for-”

“I’ll have sex with you right now if it means never talking about this again.”

Blaine pulls back at once. “That’s not funny.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “You never have a sense of humor when I need you to,” he whines as he starts walking backwards towards the couch.

Blaine’s lips twitch but he keeps himself from smiling – it makes Kurt laugh, to which Blaine sighs. “I have no idea where to go from here if you don’t want to talk about it… I…”

Kurt drops himself on the couch and spreads his arms around him, gesturing to the whole loft. “We can literally do _anything_ else.”

Blaine gives him a small glare. “I don’t just mean right now. I mean, in general. You can’t refuse to talk about it, because then I’ll never know when you’re ready or not, when I’m pushing too hard, when-”

“First of all, you never push too hard. You never push, period. It’s ridiculous, Blaine. Push a little, already. A guy likes to feel wanted.”

Blaine blanches. “You don-”

“Second of all. I don’t know what it means to be ready. I don’t… Some days I feel like I am, some days I don’t. Actually most days, when you kiss me – when you _really_ kiss me, it’s all that I can think about. It’s all that I want, and I never want you to stop, even though you always do, because you’re so respectful and it’s driving me insane. And then I think maybe you don’t want me like that, and I get scared, and I’m not ready again, and…. it depends! It fucking depends on the moment – there’s no point in time where I’ll reach it and I’ll be like – yes, I’m ready forever, take me now and every day.”

That does get a small, ill-concealed snort from Blaine.

“What I’m saying is… I don’t want you treating me with kid gloves. I know how to say no, okay? If you want to kiss me hard, kiss me hard. If you want to take my shirt, take my shirt – the moment you go too far for me, I’ll stop you and that’s that. I just want to know that you want me, so I can feel… I don’t know, safe.”

Blaine’s still standing, looking down at Kurt with the fondest smile.

“Stop staring.”

“Can I kiss you _now_?” he asks in a sweet purr.

“I don’t know, _can_ you?”

Blaine smile drops at once and he just turns on his heel with his hands up. “What the hell, Kurt! You destroyed it! You destroyed the moment with the most obnoxious Wes joke ever. Don’t do that! Ugh! I can’t even look at you right now.”

Kurt cackles for a long time, thankful for the moment of reprieve in tension and seriousness, before he just launches himself off the couch and grabs Blaine’s wrists and pulls him in, connecting their lips hard and fast. He presses his body close and wraps his arms tight around Blaine. For a moment, he can’t tell if Blaine’s resisting as a joke, or if, like Kurt was afraid, he’s become even more careful with his touches. So he crowds Blaine as much as possible.

For a moment there Blaine stops altogether, and pulls back. He looks Kurt in the eye. Pauses another beat, and kisses him again. It’s so strong he’s practically dipping Kurt, who can’t help the grin that spreads over his face and ruins the kiss.

“Can I ask you something that might dampen the mood?” Blaine murmurs, starting to guide Kurt back towards the couch without breaking an inch of their embrace.

Kurt almost wants to groan, but he rolls his eyes.

“Go for it.”

Blaine gently pushes Kurt on the couch and then climbs on top of him, straddles him, and lowers his torso until he kisses Kurt’s jaw. “What about sex scares you?”

“With you?”

“With anybody.”

Kurt swallows thickly as he tries to find the words and Blaine sits up to give him the space for it. “That I might lose myself in someone that won’t give me back.”

Blaine smiles, sweet and kind, before he leans back down to kiss. It starts sweet for a few minutes – frustratingly sweet. And then slowly, Blaine’s lips leave his own, and find his jaw, his neck, his ear... Kurt clutches Blaine’s shoulders to make sure he doesn’t leave. He’s never been kissed like this – not by Blaine or anyone.

“What if…” Blaine’s voice almost startles him, so sudden and low between kisses. “ _I_ lose myself in you…?”

Kurt doesn’t have an answer to that, mostly because Blaine’s still mouthing at his neck, progressively dirtier, and it’s giving Kurt’s life more meaning than it’s ever had.

There are hips pressing hard against Kurt’s, and there’s a lot of blood rushing there. “What if I’m the one giving you something?”

Blaine lifts up a little, just enough to look Kurt in the eye – his lips are red and swollen and Kurt realizes his neck must be covered with marks. Kurt just nods – he has no idea what he’s agreeing to, but he’ll agree to anything that means Blaine continues touching him like this.

Fuck, he’s ready.

Blaine’s hands settle on his waistband and tug Kurt’s shirt up. “I’m taking it off… Okay?”

Kurt nods, and lets it happen. And then there are lips and hands everywhere. And if this is what Blaine loosing himself in Kurt feels like, then Kurt doesn’t want to ever give him back. Not even when there are hands pulling his jeans open, and a breathy voice right next to his ear – warm air on wet skin – “Say the word and I’ll st-”

“Keep going. Fuck, keep going.”

And Blaine does, kiss after kiss, until his head his buried between Kurt’s legs and every single thing in the world that isn’t the two of them and that couch stops existing.

-x-

Kurt looks up at the house he hasn’t been in in months. It’s the first day of fiery summer at the end of May, and were it not for that, Kurt could have missed the flowers covering the front yard. So, the girlfriend was really serious… Kurt tilts his head and tries to decide if he likes the thought. He doesn’t particularly like carnations – they’re cheap and ugly – but he’s willing to give her another chance at winning him over because it does mean his father isn’t alone while he’s away.

Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t come bearing the biggest confession ever. He tightens the backpack over his shoulders and goes over to the front door. It’s unlocked and he’s torn between enjoying the fact he won’t have to dig through his back to find his keys, and wanting to scold his dad for the recklessness.

“Dad? I’m home!” he calls.

“Kitchen!”

Kurt finds him with his tongue sticking out in concentration as he applies cream to a beautiful pie.

“You did not bake that.” Kurt laughs.

“I did not.” Burt looks up, before he all but drops the instruments and walks over to hug his son. They hold each other tight for almost a minute. “Carole baked it, and then told me to put on the cream when you were almost here,” Burt smiles as he pulls back.

“She’s not here?” Kurt asks, trying not to sound too relieved.

“You’ll meet her tomorrow. But today I wanted it to be the two of us. I haven’t seen you since Christmas.”

“Well,” Kurt smiles, reaching over to swipe a finger through the cream. “I did miss you.”

“Are you going to get in trouble in school for skipping the week?”

Kurt shrugs. “Not really. I only have one paper left to hand in, and it’s finished and ready. I asked someone to do it for me, it’s fine. Your birthday week is more important than the last vestiges of a semester, dad.”

Burt grins and hugs him again. “You look good, Kurt. Better.”

“You mean because I took off the nose ring, and am wearing a white shirt?”

Burt laughs. “Exactly.”

“Well, the nose ring was itchy, and summer is coming and I’d really love to survive it without melting.”

“Sure.” Burt claps him over the shoulder. “I’ll keep waiting for whatever inconvenience the combat boots suddenly have,” he winks and Kurt just sticks his tongue out. “You look happier, but I’m sure it’s unrelated to the new look.”

Kurt can’t help the smile that takes over. “Completely unrelated,” he smirks, and tries to ignore his heart hammering against his chest. This would be a nice segue into the admission that he’s promised himself and Blaine. Yet, he lets the moment pass, and grabs the pie and two plates.

All afternoon, as he keeps his father talking and talking he can feel his phone in his pocket way too present in its silence. He can picture Blaine staring at his own willing Kurt to call him and tell him how it went. He kind of wishes he’d accepted his boyfriend’s offer to come with and help him come clean.

They’re watching some show on TV that Kurt has no idea why he agreed to it in the first place, when Burt turns to him and says, oh so casual. “Oh! Did you end up having coffee with Dr Anderson? How has he been?”

Kurt can feel his cheeks burn like the fiery pits of hell. “Actually, dad,” he closes his eyes. “I’m dating him.”

“Oh.” Burt looks a little taken aback. “So that really did happen. Okay. Huh, when you didn’t say anything again I thought you’d changed your mind, but okay…”

“We’ve been together for three months now, actually,” Kurt cringes and avoids looking at Burt. “And actually, we kind of… were really close friends way, way before I met him in New York City.” He full on grimaces and glances towards Burt, who is frowning. “We actually met almost a year ago – before you took me to your appointment. He was taking Emmy to the park and I was hanging out with the glee club, and I, um, hit on him, but it didn’t go anywhere. And then he came to the ice-cream shop and I was an ass to him. And then he was your doctor. And then he offered to talk to me and be my friend, because he realized we had a lot in common, with the whole lonely gays in high school conundrum… and we just started talking, like really, really talking, and hanging out all the time. And all the times I told you I was at Mercedes’ or Tina’s house I was actually with him… And nothing really happened, because he insisted we were just friends, except for one time when he kissed me, kind of on accident, I guess…, and then we didn’t speak for a month, and then he apologized, and we went back to the friendship thing, and I kind of fell in love with him, and I kept hoping he felt the same way, and one day we kind of had a little fight where I got so confused about what he wanted from me, and then I got really drunk one night and kind of… um, went to his house and… but he said no, of course, and then he said he didn’t think it was a good idea for us to keep being friends anymore, and I was so angry I couldn’t stay here anymore and that’s when I moved to New York… and then a few months ago he was at the hospital, when Rachel was there, and he saw me, and then he called me and told me he’d been wrong to reject me and that he wanted to try again and better this time, and I agreed, and… and that’s it.”

He forces himself to look at his dad.

“But yeah… basically that time you thought I was happy because school had ended and I was free and it was summer or whatever, it was all him. And now, too.”

Burt looks absolutely shocked.

“Jesus Christ, Kurt,” he breathes, looking almost catatonic. “Happy birthday to me…”

Kurt whimpers and drops his face to his hands.

“I don’t even know what to say…”

Kurt tries to decipher his dad’s expression and can’t. He can’t even tell if he’s angry or sad. “Say you don’t hate him.”

“I…” Burt looks like he’s trying really hard not to say he hates Blaine.

“You can’t hate him, because I… he means _a lot_ to me, and I don’t want to have to pretend like he doesn’t when I’m with you. And I want him to be as big a part of my life as he can and…”

“Kurt, you’ve been with him for three months, you don’t know-”

“No.” Kurt shakes his head and feels his nerves and guilt give way to something else. “We’ve been together for a year – with some interruptions and without many kisses in the first nine months.”

“Kurt, he’s, what, ten years older than you?”

“Nine. And a few months ago your only problem was his kid.”

“ _And_ he has a kid!” Burt gasps, taking his hands to his head.

“Dad, please…”

“I don’t wanna see you throw your youth and your studies away, for a relationship that’s-”

“I’m not throwing anything away!” Kurt frowns. “Blaine was the one who convinced me to apply to college. He’s the first one to tell me to go study, and he’s stayed up all night more than once, helping me with school stuff. And what is even that supposed to mean? Throwing my youth away? Like, what? Because I’m committed to someone I can’t have fun anymore and date a bunch of guys and have casual sex? It doesn’t even sound like something you’d say.”

“I just… I guess. Kurt, try to put yourself in my shoes. Your son tells you he’s been seeing someone, friends only or not, behind your back for a year. That person happens to be a decade older, and a father. I’m sorry, but it’s not something that makes you celebrate.”

“It is, if your son is _happy_.”

Burt freezes.

“Ten minutes ago, you were _giddy_ over how happy I looked. Last summer you were too! And now you know the reason and you don’t like it anymore?” Kurt moves as close as he can to Burt’s couch.

“But I also remember last Septem-”

“Dad, I’ve never been this happy. Even now, I’m so scared to admit it because I might jinx it. But I really, really am. I was careful, dad, I promise I was. There are boundaries and a speed limit, and it’s working. It _is_. September isn’t going to happen again. The drama, the doubt, the confusion, that’s all gone.”

Burt scoffs with that expression older people use in their condescension towards younger people.

“You’re always going to be the most important thing in my life, dad, but this is making me feel something I never felt before, and I’m amazed at it, and I… don’t make me choose, please.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you, kid.”

“I don’t need protecting from this, dad.”

“You’re too young to know that.”

“I’m not, and _he_ knows that,” Kurt doesn’t know when the tears got there, and they’re really not helping his case, so he brushes them off furiously. “I haven’t been a kid since my only remaining parent ended up in a coma when I was sixteen. And since I had to defend myself from a school full of bullies and constant assault, dad. And since I would come home and keep my mouth shut about all of it because you had a bad heart, and we had hospital bills to pay and private school would never be an option. Don’t tell me you want to protect me – because I’ve been protecting myself all my life. I don’t blame you for it – I never gave you the choice to do it. But I _do_ know how to do that myself, and all I ask of you is to trust me, and to not hate my boyfriend.”

Burt looks like he’s just been slapped, and Kurt feels the guilt of having done that, but he pushes forward.

“You loved him. Before all of this, you did. You said it yourself, he’s all you ever hoped for for me! I remember you going on and on about how great a guy he was when you took me to your appointment. That hasn’t changed.”

“Of course that’s changed, if he’s dating my son, the scale changes,” Burt says, but there’s some softness to his tone that gets Kurt relaxing.

“I promise, if you give him a chance, you will love him.”

“Well, you certainly do.”

Kurt can’t help the chuckle that escapes him at his dad’s half teasing tone. He doesn’t confirm it – he hasn’t ever said it to Blaine, not in those three words, and he should be the first person to hear it, whenever that happens. But he doesn’t deny it, either. He just slumps on the couch and runs a hand through his hair.

“Anyway, aren’t dads supposed to hate boyfriends on principle?” Burt smirks with an eye roll, and Kurt sighs lets out a breath like he’s just run the marathon.

“I win?” Kurt breathes.

Burt laughs and then sighs, long and strained, like old people do when they want to torture everyone around them. “Just no more hiding or lying, Kurt…”

“No… that’s everything, I promise.”

“I don’t like thinking that he turned you into a liar.”

Kurt scoffs the sassiest scoff he’s scoffed since he was thirteen. “Please, dad. Don’t pretend I’m still the perfect little boy that would cry if he accidentally stepped on an ant. _I_ lied. Right at the start he told me the decision to tell you was mine, and I was the one who didn’t. And then, when we got together, he made me promise I would tell you the truth after two months. I waited three.”

“Fine, fine, fine… I get it, he’s the best person in the world!” Burt waves his hands around, as if to clear the air. “Can we talk about anything else right now, and revisit the subject once the shock has worn off?”

Kurt smiles and nods.

-x-

_I have survived it. I have adrenaline running through my body. I feel invincible._

**FINALLY! How was it?**

_I’m gonna go get drunk at Scandals, talk to you tomorrow._

**What?**

_I’m kidding. But I could totally go get drunk on his liquor cabinet. He deserves it for being a_ _stubborn ass and making me cry._

**What?**

_It wasn’t that bad._

**It doesn’t sound very good, either.**

_It’s fine now._

**I don’t want to come between the two of you, Kurt. You know that, right?**

_Shut up. I refuse to make this into a choice. I’m going to have the best of both worlds, no matter what. I’m Hannah Montana._

**I’m pretty sure that if I was dating Hannah Montana I’d be arrested. (in fact, I’d turn myself** **in and request to go to a hospital for the criminally insane) (are you drunk already?)**

_Call me._

Kurt makes sure that the light outside his bedroom is off, and his door his closed, and then slips completely beneath his covers, despite the growing heat of the arriving Summer. He’s covered head to toe when his phone starts buzzing and he picks it up at once.

“Hey. You can’t call me?” Blaine sounds like he’s frowning.

“I wanted _you_ to call me.”

There’s a chuckle. “Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Are you really okay, though?” Blaine asks. “You can tell me. You don’t have to spare my feelings if he hates me. Whatever you need to talk about, okay?”

“It’s fine. I promise. I talked him out of the hatred. I don’t know why he would think you’re corrupting me when he’s met us both. Clearly I’m the corrupting force in the relationship.”

“Listen, Kurt, I can still get on a plane and go there and… I don’t know what I would do, actually. But I could… do something.”

“Probably make it worse.” Kurt laughs. “It’s fine. He just needs time to get used to the idea. You did too, once.”

“That’s true.” Blaine says softly.

“He told me I looked happier than he’s ever seen me, when I arrived,” he drops his voice to a whisper, for some reason. “So, I told him he needs to realize that you’re what’s making me this happy.”

“Oh…” Blaine breathes. “You’re making me incredibly happy as well, Kurt.”

“Um…” Kurt takes a deep breath and wraps his blankets even closer. _Say it, say it, say it. I love you_. _Say it, Kurt Hummel_. “Do you love me?”

“I-“

“I don’t just mean _are you in love with me_. I mean… do you _love_ me?”

There’s barely any pause. “Yes. I do. I love you.”

“Oh. Um. I do, too. You. Love you. I mean, I love you.”

Blaine chuckles, soft and fond. “You don’t have to say it back, Kurt.”

“I wanted to. That’s why I asked you to call. I wanted to tell you. But I guess I needed you to go first.”

“I was waiting for you to go first.” Blaine tells him, and Kurt can feel the smile behind the words. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Or I would have said it a long time ago. But of course I love you.”

Kurt scrunches up his nose trying to keep himself from grinning. “Okay, this actually is a little… so we can stop the conversation now.”

“Why? It just got _good_!” Blaine laughs, full of tease. “I could tell you _all_ of the ways I love you.”

“Shhh… I’m gonna go to sleep now.”

“Okay, my love.”

“Shhh.”

He can still hear Blaine’s laughter as he hangs up the call.

-x-

**Part Four – They Keep**

“Emmy, can you please sit still?” Blaine mutters in her ears. She’s sitting on his lap, and as if her bony ass wasn’t painful enough, she keeps squirming and his legs keep dying one puncture at a time.

“I’m trying to see.” She mutters back, frustration lacing her voice.

“You saw everything at home…”

“Not on the models, I didn’t,” she bites back. “Kurt says it looks completely different with the lighting and everything else.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and inhales sharply when she does a particularly painful movement, which then included an elbow to his stomach. Next to him Burt is biting his laughter back and Blaine just glares at him for his lack of sympathy. Burt snorts.

It’s been one hour, watching presentation after presentation, and while Blaine is kind of happy that Kurt’s was selected as the closing one, he’s just more than ready to go outside and watch his boyfriend get his degree diploma and go have a fancy dinner at a fancy restaurant, and _then_ just go back home and put ice all over his thighs.

“Oh!” Burt raises a little bit in his seat, “there he is!”

Blaine turns to look at the mouth of the catwalk, where apparently Kurt is exiting for the well-deserved applause over his small, but incredible collection, but he doesn’t even get a glimpse before there’s a hand against his face – fingers miraculously missing his eyes – and knees to his stomach and arms, and feet stomping on his legs and Emmy’s standing on his lap in a second.

“Jesus Christ, Emmy!” he barely manages to grab her waist to keep her from falling face first into the seats in front of them, but she couldn’t care less. She’s too busy cupping her hands around her mouth to holler and scream her support. Blaine closes his eyes and gives up on even trying to see – her red skirt completely blocking everything from view. Burt is laughing heartily and Blaine finally gives into it, when suddenly Emmy’s turning around and telling everyone who listens, “That’s my daddy’s boyfriend. Kurt is my daddy’s boyfriend! He makes all of my dresses! Look, isn’t he super pretty today? I chose his outfit!”

Blaine balks at that, mind flooding with horror scenarios of mismatching colors and clashing patterns (for as assertive as he is with anyone else, Kurt has a hard time saying no to Emmy, and while it’s hilarious sometimes, because it usually means that Blaine will ask her to ask him for something, right now it could have disastrous results) and all but pushes her aside to look, getting her to sit back down. He can’t quite believe it – it’s like he’s going back in time more than three years, to see Kurt in all black, his old combat boots brought back from the pits of memory lane, and parts of his hair pink. Kurt’s blowing a kiss at Emmy and laughing, while exaggeratedly running a hand through his hair.

“It’s washable dye – don’t worry, Burt.” Emmy places a soothing hand on his head, and Burt just laughs even harder. “Even though I still think his hair is boring now.”

“It’s better than the white…” Burt sighs.

“Oh, yes!” She breathes dramatically. “Anything is better than the white.”

Blaine just bites his cheek and shakes his head. When did this happen?

Blaine just about remembers he finally has free hands to clap once Kurt is almost back inside, so he lets propriety go for a moment and stands, fingers to his mouth, letting out a loud, impressing whistle. Kurt freezes and looks, grinning and blowing another kiss, this time clearly meant for Blaine, takes a small, last bow and disappears behind the curtain.

By the time they’re outside facing the big stage, not quite at the front of it, Emmy’s enthusiasm and energy has dampened slightly.

“Wait,” she frowns at Blaine. “We still have to watch stuff, now?”

“You wanted to come, honey,” he chuckles without taking his eyes off his phone where he’s texting Wes their exact location.

“I wanted to see Kurt’s fashion show, and the diploma thing, that’s all!”

“This is the diploma thing.” Burt says from his seat next to Blaine.

“But I have to watch everyone else get the diploma too?” She’s horrified.

“Yap.” Blaine gives her a playful grin before he sends the text and pockets the phone.

She sighs, loud and dramatic, before she climbs all the way back to Blaine’s lap and he grips the chair a little too tight and tries to take comfort in that sense of dejá vu that happens every time Emmy reminds him of Cooper, which has been starting to happen often enough. “Emmy, you have a chair of your own now, and the stage is high, you don’t-”

“That chair is for Uncle Wes,” she informs him. “And it’s more boring in the chair.”

“It’s also less painful.”

“No,” she frowns, confused at his protest, and turns around to look at him and wrap her arms around his shoulders, bony little knees digging into thighs. “You’re way more comfortable than the chair.”

Burt chuckles and Blaine gives her a bitter smile and bites back his answer. Cooper’s daughter, indeed. “Do you think if I went up to the old sir and asked him to skip forward to Kurt he would do it?”

“Because that’s so fair to everyone else who is here to see the other students getting their diplomas…” Blaine shakes his head and she sneers.

“But Kurt is the most talented. He should get the first diploma.”

Blaine can’t help laughing. “It’s in alphabetical order, honey. But we’re staying until everyone has their diploma.”

“Why? Not even _you_ care about the other people!”

“You know, Emmy, I think I liked you better when you didn’t speak.”

She sticks out her tongue and he laughs, so she leans close and swipes it across his cheek. He fakes dramatic horror and wipes his cheek on her dress.

“Hey, guys!” Wes’ voice pulls them out of giggles, as he shuffles through chairs.

“Uncle Wes!” she squeals (as if she hadn’t seen him just yesterday), and then proceeds to scramble off Blaine’s lap – and the worst finally happens. Her foot jams hard against Blaine’s… yeah.

“Fu-Oh-Sh-Godammit!”

He doesn’t really register much beyond her squealed apologies, as she frantically tries to hug him out of pain, and what he thinks is Burt patting his back amid chuckles, and Wes torn between laughing and offering to go get some ice.

He takes a deep steadying breath before he pulls himself back up and wipes the few tears that welled up. “It’s fine, Emmy. I’m fine.” He breathes. “But please choose someone else’s lap for the rest of the day.”

She looks horrified at her actions, her lip wobbles and her eyes are huge and bright as she stands there in front of Blaine like she just kicked her favorite puppy.

“Com’ere, sweetheart.” Burt reaches for her hand and pulls her towards himself.

“No!” she gasps. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Blaine can’t help smiling at that, but he’s still trying to normalize his breathing, so it’s Burt who reassures her. “You won’t. You just have to be a little more careful with your movements.”

She looks dejected as she lets him hoist her up. “Will I ever stop being a klutz?”

Wes leans across Blaine, speaking in that casually polite and matter-of-fact tone only he can truly achieve. “Well, everyone has to have a quirk that sets them apart. Because you’re almost a normal speaking child now, being a klutz can be your new quirk.”

She sniffs and considers the thought. “What’s yours?”

“Sounding like an undercover alien.” Blaine mutters.

Wes laughs and she frowns, turning to Burt. “I don’t get it…”

“They’re both too quirky for us, Emmy,” he sighs, long suffering and amused, before he winks at her.

Emmy doesn’t question it further, even though it’s clear she still doesn’t understand any of the conversation, and instead turns towards the stage and sits very, very still until the end of the ceremony – even when it’s Kurt going up there to receive his diploma, she merely claps as politely as everyone else. As soon as it’s over, though, she hops off Burt’s lap and then takes Blaine’s hand in hers and walks alongside him in silence and carefully watching where she’s going. He almost wants to tease her but he’s afraid she’ll just have an anxiety attack if he brings it up again, so he laughs quietly to himself and finds a good spot to wait for Kurt.

He finds them quickly enough, and hugs Emmy very tightly, thanking her profusely for her loud cheers. He hugs Wes and thanks him for coming. And then lets Blaine wrap his arms around him and dip him in a dramatic, romantic and heartfelt kiss.

“Congratulations, you wonderful talented you!”

Kurt laughs as he pulls him up and then leans close to Blaine’s ear and whispers, “It’s so hot that you can still do that at your age.”

Blaine’s torn between laughing and rolling his eyes, and he ends up doing both of them and shoving Kurt off him. Kurt just pecks him again with a smirk before he saunters off to be enveloped in one of those fatherly hugs that only Burt Hummel knows how to give.

Blaine watches with a fond smile until he’s pulled out of it with his cell phone ringing. He expects it to be Rachel, telling them she’s on her way to the restaurant, but instead he frowns at his mother’s name on the screen and takes the call.

“Hey mom. How are you guys?”

“We’re good. How has your day been? How was Kurt’s graduating ceremony? Emmy was very excited about it.”

“It went great. It just finished actually. We’re about to head out for dinner.”

“Oh good, could you pass the phone to Kurt, then,” she says. Her voice doesn’t sound particularly excited, but it’s literally the first time in the three years Blaine and Kurt have been together that she’s asked to speak to Kurt, instead of just politely asking about him and changing the subject as soon as possible.

“Um, sure!” he refrains from laughing or sounding too surprised. “Kurt!” he offers his phone. “It’s for you!”

“Who is it?” Kurt asks as he takes it.

“My mom.” Blaine giggles and watches as Kurt’s smile vanishes. Everyone (except Emmy, who has never really registered Blaine’s parents’ distaste for Kurt) watches the whole thing like it’s the funniest sitcom episode.

“Hello, Mrs. Anderson. How are you?... Oh yes, thank you…. Yes, thank you. We’re going to have some dinner now… Well, thank you for remembering. I’ll see you in August. Thank you again, goodbye…. Hello Mr. Anderson, how are you?... yes, yes, thank you….um, thank you, yes… oh, well, we were just going to have some dinner now… oh good, thank you. I’ll see you in August. Goodbye, thank you.”

He hangs up as if he’s just in a Twilight Zone episode. In a matter of three seconds everyone just bursts out laughing.

-x-

“I think the best part about tonight was getting to skip the hospital fundraiser… I swear to god, they get more obnoxious every year,” Blaine sighs dropping himself on the bed and folding his legs as he waits for Kurt to finish brushing his teeth. Hair still wet from his shower, and the pink almost gone, but apparently not as washable as Emmy had promised (Blaine kind of likes it, though, so he he’s not complaining). “I mean, I’m kidding, of course the best part was you and everything about you. But _god_ does it feel great to not pretend like people aren’t judging me for having a younger boyfriend and calling me sugar daddy behind my back, when they have the worst collection of trophy wives I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Kurt wipes his face on the towel before he turns to Blaine, leaning on the door frame in all his brief clad glory. He smiles softly but doesn’t say anything.

“And like… I’m barely over thirty…” Kurt smirks wider. “ _One_. I’m barely over thirty-one. I’m pretty sure I’m not old enough to qualify for sugar daddy, no matter what they think.”

“Well you know what you should do then…” Kurt shrugs.

“What?”

“Get yourself a trophy husband, instead of a boy toy.”

Blaine laughs. “Please, never call yourself my boy toy ever again.”

Kurt just smiles, as softly as before, pushing himself to his full height. “Let me rephrase that,” he murmurs, as he crosses the bedroom, bypassing Blaine who frowns and pouts, opens the wardrobe and digs around for something in the back. He turns around with his hand behind his back, pink cheeks and a lip bit beam. “Blaine Anderson…” he starts before he reaches Blaine, kneels down right in front of him and then pops open a ring box. “Will you marry me?”

“What?! What?! Oh my god! Yes!” Blaine gasps, covering his mouth with his hands, and then uncovering for another slew of yesses and oh my gods, and covering again and just generally not knowing what to do with himself, his heart stopping and restarting with a split second. “What?! Kurt, what- I, holy shit.”

Kurt beams and all but throws the ring box away before he climbs on the bed and on Blaine, crowding him at once and covering his stupefied mouth with his own.

“I did not see that coming!” Blaine gasps, as Kurt pulls back just enough to start unbuttoning Blaine’s shirt.

“I wish I could say I’ve been working on my subtlety, but honestly I didn’t either,” he laughs. “I was saving it for the anniversary of the day we met.”

Blaine grins. “You couldn’t wait two days?”

Kurt pushes the shirt off his shoulders. “Clearly not.”


End file.
